Blood in the Water
by darkmagic-luvr
Summary: The rift has been open. Time is meshing together. The universe is splitting. The only way to survive is to stop it. To close the rift. Close it or die. a crossover between Supernatural, Firefly and Dark Angel. alows only 2 fandom categories
1. Prologue

Author's Note: The pairings in this fic include Sam/River (SPN/FF), Max/Alec (DA), Simon/Jo (FF/SPN), Original Cindy/Inara (DA/FF, hinted) and Bela/Jo (SPN, hinted). Spoilers for all fandoms listed, set in season 3 of Supernatural and after _Serenity_. Written for the sncross_bigbang on livejournal. You can find my master post along with art here: **darkmagic_luvr . livejournal . com / 358113 . html** (just remove the spaces)  
Author's Note II: This is one of the reasons I haven't updated either of my Dark Angel fics. Hopefully this will tide those of you who follow me over until I can get the next update out.

* * *

Preface

_Get out._

The explosion was miles away, but the waves still shook the metal walls keeping them alive. Dust and dead flies lying on the beams above them fell with every shockwave, the rattling metal becoming louder and more prominent as the bombs fell closer to their target, triangulating them, trapping them in.

_Get us out._

"This is so fucking bad." he was so scared his voice shook, but after he said it, the ground went quiet and the bombs stopped dropping. Panic spread through the bunker, all seven occupants froze where they sat, stood or lied curled into themselves. A woman with long dark hair stalked over, flinging out her hand and clapping it over the offenders mouth so hard the sound echoed off the walls. She dug her nails into the skin of his cheeks, leaning in to him so close that their noses scrapped.

"You make one more noise and I'll snap you're fucking neck," her voice was low, dangerous and slightly wistful. She was too young to be fighting a war, too young to be leading it. Her nails were staring to draw blood.

_Why wont you help us._

"Calm down, darlin'." a soft voice, behind her, his face caked with blood and still screaming in pain, reached out and gripped the younger girls shoulders, pulling her away from the poor man. "Cursin' don't suit you." He let her go when she was a safe enough distance away, but she kept stepping back, kept going until she hit the wall behind her with a dull thump of bare skin against metal. She leaned against the wall, next to a tall man with shaggy dark hair and a gash that ran the length of his arm, still bleeding steadily. He glanced down at her, watching turmoil and rage and pain filter through her eyes. They darkened when he wrapped his hand around her wrist, heavy and there.

"They aren't looking for us anymore," he said softly, but loud enough so that the rest of them could hear. "They did what they came to."

The man with nail marks carved into his face crumpled into the ground at his words, burring his face into his hands and letting out a choking sound. The three other occupants who stood next to him stood stalk still, unmoving, but their eyes hardened with rage.

"We live to fight another day," growled one of them, the biggest. His eyes flashed green as he turned his head. They were soldiers, weapons, animals-

'Nomalies.

They were fighting three wars at once. They had to stand together or they all would fall. River turned her head to the side, tilting it up to look at Sam, her eyes still dark and filled with pain, with tears.

"We have to look for survivors," she said, "Before the demons get here to invade their souls and drink their flesh."

"What about Reavers?" said the man, sitting on the ground, finally looking up. He couldn't have been more than fifteen, but he was still a man, in this war, there were no children.

"Well then, we'll just have to pick 'em off," said Mal, lifting his weapon to his shoulder. He turned to the 'Nomalie, the biggest one. In the dark it was hard to tell, but the pale white skin and pointed ears were unmistakable. "Get ready to run."

"We're always ready," he grunted. Beside him, a pretty red head handed him a rifle. "How much amo we go, Missy?"

"We'll have more in a few minutes."

"We have to go now," said River, twisting her wrist in Sam's hand nervously. He nodded and pulled away, turning to the door and putting his weight into the rusting wheel. One complete turn and the door swung open, letting in bright lights and the smell of sulfur, burning flesh, and the tang of the apocalypse. It was clear the Conclave had swept through, but they hadn't been very successful. Sam and River stepped out first, followed by the transgenics and finally Mal. They stayed clear of the bodies, the flesh of unfortunate Ordinaries still being eaten away.

River knelt down next to a woman with dark curly hair, her dress splattered with blood and her face cut to hell. River pressed her fingers against the woman's neck, looking for a pulse while Sam stood behind her, watching. He waved Mal over when River looked up at him.

"Inara."

.

_So this is what the end of the world fells like_, mused Max, covering her mouth with one hand as it rained spores down on her and Alec, standing next to her with a stony expression marring his pretty face. He flicked the Conclaves idea of apocalypse off his coat and glanced at Max.

"It's your turn."

Max nodded and stepped up next to the fence separating them from the Conclave. It was just an office building, surrounded by chain link fence, barbed wire, and creepy people in robes holding snakes.

"I hate this part," grumbled Max, taking a knee and dropping the duffle bag she was carrying onto the ground. She unzipped it, pulling out a pack of C4, a few wires and a stick of cherry flavored bubblegum. She popped the gum in her mouth and picked up a glock, holding it out for Alec to take.

"I thought you said you grabbed them all?"

"Musta forgotten one."

"Whatever, Alec. You got my back?" He smirked at the back of her head.

"Always."

They had blow apart two of these places so far. Places the Conclave had set up in areas where transgenics had cumulated. The first one had been right outside Seattle, the second had been in Eugene, Oregon where a few Marine transhumans had set up a community, this one had lead them into South Dakota. Alec had commented on the increase of trannie haters since they had crossed the border, cracking uneasy jokes about how the Conclave could just leave it up to them to finish their people here. Max hadn't answered him, she had barely spoken to him through the trip, just let him prattle on until he was sick of hearing himself talk.

Alec glanced over her shoulder as she set the wiring for the bomb. "We all set?"

"Five by five," said Max standing up again. She glanced under her eyebrows at the building and the cult loonies in front of it, making sure they weren't noticed. Alec picked up the duffle bag and moved to toss it behind them, next to their bikes.

"Alec?"

"Yeah?" Alec tossed over his shoulder, not looking back at Max as he arranged a piece of bush against their stuff. He looked over at her when she didn't reply and frowned at her, just staring at the cult building. "What is it, Max?"

"It's another one of those things." Alec started, blurring back to Max's side, zooming in past the fence at the cult, seemingly running around in a panic, away from a black cloud, crackling with lightning.

"_Shit._"

"Let's go," snapped Max, looking down at the device in her hands and setting it. Alec looked at her, squinting as the wind picked up, kicking up the dirt.

"What the hell are you doing?" shouted Alec

"Blowing this mother, it's why we're here!" Max shouted back, reeling her arm back and throwing the explosive over the fence and into the mêlée of black and Conclave members. Alec stepped into Max's space, his shoulder brushing against hers as he stared at the impending explosion. They could feel the heat from the blast wash against their faces, narrowing their eyes against the bits of flesh and debris that flew at them. Alec felt something warm inside him swell with something like pride and he could feel Max smiling.

"_Fenos'tol_, bitches."

.

"You look uncomfortably familiar."

"Oh trust me, I'd remember a face like yours."

Jayne used his teeth to tear off the end of the bandage wrapped around his arm, glancing up at his companions in the front of the boat…or car, as it were. He tossed the remaining gauze at them, watching as it bounced off the head of the scaly, green thing he was learning was called a Transhuman. Mole rolled red eyes onto Jayne, pulling his cigar out of his mouth and flicking ashes in his direction.

"Hey, hey, not in the car!" shouted Dean, glaring at Mole. "I will throw your scaly ass out of here-"

"I would love to see you try, ape."

"Who are you calling an ape?"

Jayne leaned forward in his seat, resting his forearm on his knees as he squinted out the windshield at something in the distance. "_Reavers_."

"What the hell is a reaver?" snapped Mole, turning around in his seat to look at Jayne.

"Government experiment. Made normal humans mad out of their minds. They go around killin' folk, cuttin' on themselves, eatin' people. Ain't right."

"They've got someone," said Dean, slamming his foot on the gas, driving straight at the pack of reavers. They looked up at the sound of the Impalla, roaring, blood covered heads thrown back, pulling away from their victim. One or two of them weren't wearing clothes, five in total, ripped at each other as they ran towards the car, hitting the bumper and the windshield as Dean drove through them, screeching to a stop just in front of the person on the ground. Dean pulled out his gun from the waistband of his jeans, Jayne picked up Vera and Mole settled his shotgun on his shoulder, kicking the passengers side door open and stepping out.

"Don't you have a pretty face," he said around his cigar, cocking his shot gun and firing directly into the face of a reaver coming at him. Jayne picked off another as he stepped out of the car, and Dean took out two with one shot, blowing out the back of their sculls. He turned to look at Mole and Jayne, already standing over the person on the ground.

"She's alive," said Mole gruffly. The woman sat up, glaring at him.

"Of course I'm alive. I _can _handle my own." Dean moved around his car, and froze.

"Bela?"

One Hundred Eighty-Six Hours and Thirty Seven Minutes agoDecember 31st, 2011  
_11:58, pm  
__Two minutes until the end of the world._

Dark hair and dark eyes and blood smeared down pale arms stared hard at a metal door in front of her. The fighting and screaming and murder behind her was lost to her ears as she stared in front of her. The gun in her hand glistened in blood and sweat, her fingers tightening around the handle as she pondered on how exactly she was supposed to open the door in front of her.

Dark eyes blinked and refocused on something much closer and much more personal, her lips parting and a whoosh of breath escaping them. She whirled on the spot, her eyes following something unseen. She stopped suddenly, her hospital gown twisting around her legs, the paper shoes she wore, crinkling and ripping along the bottom. She reached her hand out for that unseen something, her fingers dancing in mid air.

"I can see you."

Sam blinked his eyes open, his breathing labored. This was the clearest he'd ever seen her, the girl in the hospital. He coughed, turning over on his side to catch his breath before sitting up slowly to inspect the damage. His nose bleeds were getting worse, the blood matting his hair to the side of his face and staining the pillow he'd been sleeping on. He groaned, lifting his wrist to his forehead and rubbing his brow, trying to knead the headache out.

He was getting closer to her, that much at least he knew.

.

"We have to do _something_, Max, we can't just sit around waiting for them to round us all up, or worse: _exterminate_ us!"

"You don't think I _know_ that!" Max shouted back, standing up so quickly her chair flew backwards, slamming her hands against the table between her and Alec. Mole was sitting between them, looking a mixture between amused and annoyed. "Who's idea was it to stand and fight? _Mine_. And look what that's got me!"

"Us, Max," growled Alec. "It's not just you anymore, it's _us_."

"Which is why I'm suggesting that you _and I_ get our asses in gear and blow up this mother," said Max, glaring across the table at Alec who paused, his mouth hanging open in a retort. He closed it slowly and straightened his back.

"You n' me?"

"That's what I said."

"What about TC?" asked Alec, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. Max shrugged.

"Mole's in charge."

"_Aw, crap!_"

"Quite, Mole." snapped both X's, still staring at each other. Alec smirked.

"And what if Mole skips out?"

"Dix and Logan can handle it. Chill, Alec, we're covered." Alec stared at her for a moment, okay, he took a couple moments, because really, this was a big deal. He couldn't just drop everything to go on a road trip with Max blowing up Conclave facilities. He had responsibilities now.

Paper work, or road trip? Breaking up rioting transgenics, or racing Max down endless stretches of road?

Logan, or no Logan?

Alec grinned at Max, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back on his heels.

"When do we leave?" Max opened her mouth to answer when Mole stood slowly from his chair, moving to the barred window behind Max, staring out into the night sky.

Or what was supposed to be sky.

.

There was something unsettling about watching the minutes count down to midnight, especially when it was counting down to the end of the world.

Dean was listening to _Hot Blooded,_ singing along to the lyrics quietly to himself as he drove down a pitch black road, only one of his lights working. It hit the _'Welcome to Washington'_ sign for a split second, letting Dean know that he wasn't actually driving down a road leading to nowhere.

The clock on the dashboard turned 12 o'clock and the music cut out. Dean frowned, glancing away from the road and at his dash, tapping the radio a couple times before looking back up at the road.

About a hundred feet away from him something glittery was standing in the road, more like forming in the road, in the shape of a woman, with long hair and little clothing. Dean's eyebrow rose and he slowed to a stop, moving the car off to the side of the road and turning it off. He climbed out, the cold January wind gusting into his jacket. Narrowing his eyes, Dean tried to make out what was in the road, if it was a ghost or what. Completely corporeal, the woman started to dance.

"Oh crap."

With every step the earth shook, with every flick of her wrist, the wind moved faster, every turn her body made the trees and rocks and the air would shake and whine. Dean stared open mouthed at the dancing woman. Kali turned on her heel, throwing her head back to stare up at the sky, her eyes lighting up with the stars. Dean looked to, carefully, and watched the space between the earth and the sky split open and nothingness come pouring in and sucked back out. This process continued until Dean started to feel lightheaded. He closed his eyes when the wind started to scream.

Every thing was black and white and silent. The kind of silent that makes you nervous and know, just _know_ that something terrible is going to happen.

The year 2012 is when the year was said to end. At midnight on January 1st, 2012 Kali walked on Earth and danced. It is said that when Kali dances the world is to end. Up from the black pits of hell, demons slipped through the cracks. The Conclave foresaw it to happen, and their advanced breeding allowed them to walk freely among the possessed. Doctor Sandeman gave his transgenic the same genetic coding, to walk among those possessed and to save humanity. His project was supposed to be for the greater good, but it spiraled out of control and 500 years later it was used to make people better, only they weren't people. The outer planets called them Reavers, the core planets called them myths. There was a rift opened up when the clock turned to midnight, when times melded together and everything suddenly made sense. The Reavers bled out across Earth That Was, mistaken for a bred of transgenic called X-3 while the Conclave took advantage of the rift to take over the government and the demons sought fit to slip into skin.

The year 2012 is the year the world is supposed to end.

But it is only the beginning.


	2. Part I

**Part I . the beginning**

_Or How To Find The Girl of Your Dreams_

Vancouver, like the rest of the world the moment the clock struck midnight on New Year's, was hot and dry during the day and at night it was so cold water froze over. Sam had boosted a car from Sacramento after leaving Dean. He had tried taking the bus, but realized he had no idea where he was going. Every night he got a piece of the puzzle and in the morning that's where he would head. Almost two weeks later he finally ended up in Canada, standing outside of a building that looked pretty unremarkable and abandoned. Sam walked the perimeter of the building, looking for a way in undetected or a quick way out. There wasn't one. There was a busted window, but no doors. Sam peeled off his coat, tossing it into the back of what he was now considering his car and heading back to the busted window.

The last dream he had was New Year's Eve, in fact he'd had two. The first was of the girl, the second was of a doctor exiting the building at that moment. How he'd gotten in and out, Sam couldn't tell, but it was the way Sam was getting in now. Sam watched him, the doctor with the grey tweed coat and cold eyes, watched him walk to his car, exactly three cars away from where Sam was watching him then.

Sam's eyes never left the doctor's as he slipped out of his car, stepping carefully along the gravel, around a shiny SUV and a red convertible, creeping behind the doctor man until he was directly behind him.

Sam reacted before the doctor could pull out the gun in the briefcase he was carrying, slamming against his car and forcing the knife he had on him against the other man's throat.

"Hi," said Sam. "You know who I'm looking for. Tell me where she is."

"I have no-" Sam pressed his weight into the doctor, pressed the knife into his skin until he bleed.

"Right, you have no idea where she is, I have the wrong man, blah blah blah. I have no patience, because in case you haven't noticed the sky is splitting open. Tell me. Where. Is. She."

The doctor raised his hands slowly, trying to stare down at the knife Sam was holding to him. "Inside."

"I figured."

"Inside, down the hall, turn the corner and there's a door. You can't miss it."

"And I suppose I'm just going to have to guess which corner I have to take?"

"It's very straightforward. All we have to do is go up to the entrance and I'll-"

"You?" asked Sam with a snort. "You're not doing anything."

"The door is biometric sensitive, I can help," said the doctor, his eyes flickering from the knife to Sam's eyes. They narrowed for a split second before Sam made up his mind, pulling the knife away from the doctors throat. He shrugged, spinning the knife around in his hand and slamming the end of it into the side of the doctor's face, knocking him unconscious before he crumpled the ground.

Sam sighed and squatted down, tilting his head to the side as he riffled the doctor's pockets; finding a wallet, keys and something that looked like a laser pointer. He frowned at that, but shoved it into his coat pocket anyways, straightening up and glancing around for any signs of anything. I had been quiet since last night. Dark as all hell, but still quiet. He didn't know exactly what was going on, but it couldn't be good.

It never was.

Sam stared at what should be the entrance to the building looming over him. At least, that's what the sign said. All there was, was a solid wall. Sam made a face, raising the hand he'd taken off the doctor up to eye level and pressed it palm flat against the wall, and waited.

Something locked the hand into place, the sound loud and startling Sam, who pulled his hand away from the wall and the decapitated body part. It stayed in place, blood sliding down the wall. The area of the wall around the fingertips lit up and dimmed, the blood falling down the wall slowly started soaking into the wall and after a brief moment where Sam thought that was all that was going to happen, a door shape cut it's way out, complete with handle and welcome mat. Sam raised an eyebrow at the floor, stepped over the mat and pushed his way into the building and into the hallway.

The _only_ hallway stretched on like a fun house. No doors on either side, no corners to turn, just an expanse of hallway and florescent lights, dimmed low enough to keep the creep factor in check. Sam added another cliché to the checklist that was his life and started the trek, the only sound echoing off the walls being his boots against the linoleum floor.

However, his weren't the only boots he could hear.

Sam could hear whoever it was following him. Whoever it was, they were pretty decent, but they totally lacked his training. He kept walking, keeping a check on his peripheral as he turned the corner. And waited. A man, shorter than him, with a trench coat and smelling like dirt and metal rounded the corner, practically into Sam who grabbed him by lapels of his jacket and slammed him into the wall next to them. The older, shorter, dirtier man grappled with him for a moment before Sam got the upper hand, his forearm bracing against the other man's neck pulling his gun out of the waistband of his jeans and pressing it against his temple with the other.

"Who are you?"

"Could ask you the same question, son."

"You better not," growled Sam, leaning into his arm. "I'm the one with the gun."

The hiss and click of a gun Sam hadn't heard before reached his ears, the weight of the barrel pressing lightly against his abdomen. The older man smirked at him. "You don't really think you're the only one who came prepared?"

"Okay," said Sam softly, pulling his weight off the man and moving his arm away from his neck. "So you're not a doctor. What are you doing here?"

"Looking for the same thing as you I expect," spinning his gun around in his hand he slipped it back into the holster on his hip and straightened his coat. Sam frowned at him in amusement, looking him up and down.

"What are you supposed to be, a cowboy?" asked Sam, receiving a slightly offended look.

"I'm Captain Malcolm Reynolds. Mal, for what it's worth."

"I'm Sam-" a noise, like something wet and heavy hitting something solid, caught their attention, and they both turned, staring at the only door at the end of the hallway. The only door in the frickin' building. "-Winchester…" Sam took a step forward, the end of his name coming out soft and muttered . Mal followed behind him carefully, taking care to look behind them once there were close enough to the only door. Sam kept his eyes on the metal, noting that it wasn't really a door; there were no handles or locks. It was more like a sheet of metal covering what could be a hole.

The slap of something wet hitting metal sounded again and Sam's eyes flickered over to Mal. He gave him a look.

"You gotta key?"

Sam frowned and reached into his coat pockets for the keys he'd taken off the doctor. He grimaced mild annoyance at the keys and picked up the laser pointer, turning it over in his hand before pointing it at the sheet of metal and clicking it on.

The light was green and it reflected a keypad against the center of the door. Tilting his head to the side curiously, Sam stepped forward, passing the laser pointer off to Mal and passing his hand across the keypad. It shimmered.

"Oh, screw that," muttered Mal, pulling his gun back out and shooting the door. Sam jumped back, his arms flying up to cover his face while Mal kept firing.

One or two of the bullets zinged off across the metal, but the rest hit the keypad, causing it to crackle and split apart. Mal lowered his arm and tossed the laser pointer back to Sam, who caught it in mid air, still staring at the door.

The metal door hissed and before their eyes started to disintegrate. Sam and Mal stared past the mysterious disappearing door and into the room it was protecting. The wet sound they had been hearing was the sound of body parts, soaked in blood, hurling through the air like projectiles. It was an expansive room, with cells on either side of the walls. Bits of doctors scattered across the floor, blood running down the doors, screams echoing from inside each padlocked door, shaking from the force within them.

"_Tyen shiao duh,_" whispered Mal. Sam didn't take the time to ask what he was talking about, he could feel his body moving without him, into the room. There was a girl standing a few feet away, staring at the door with dark eyes and dark hair and pale skin and a sea foam colored gown that cut off at her knees.

"River."

Sam caught his breath. _So that was her name_, he thought, _River._

"Captain," said River, sliding her paper covered feet along the blood coated floor. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder as a severed head soared through the air. "It's become complicated."

"'Fraid you might be correct, little one," said Mal. He glanced at the head as it rolled up to his feet. "It's become somewhat unsettlin'."

"That would be an understatement, Captain," said River, turning back around. She moved fluidly, discarding her paper shoes in favor of walking in the blood. She stared at Sam with unblinking eyes and stopped a foot away from him, scanning his front. "You came."

"Of course," said Sam softly. She reached out to touch his face and his head throbbed painfully at the contact. He winced, and River pulled her hand away, letting it hover inches from his face. Her eyes narrowed.

"Very unsettling."

A howl from behind them, inside the room River had been in, caught their attention and they watched as an angry, screaming, bleeding man stuck his hand out of the small window in his door, his fingers tearing at the metal, pulling the slates free.

"We should go," said Sam, backing out of the room. Mal pulled his gun out of it's holster and aimed it, reaching out for River with his other and pulling her behind him. River screamed as pieces of metal fell to the floor, the man inside the cell slamming his body into the door, part of it giving way.

"Run!" Mal fired his gun at the cell as Sam grabbed River's hand, catching her attention as he pulled her into a run. Two more shots at the cell as the _thing_ inside of it pushed part of it's face against the hole in the metal and Mal turned on his heel, his coat whirling around his legs, and flew after River and Sam.

But getting out seemed to be more of a challenge than coming in. It was probably the way they wanted it; sure, you can come in, just don't think you're getting out. What had originally been just a hallway had turned into a labyrinth. Sam had let River lead the way after taking a wrong turn into a solid wall. In double the time it had taken them to get down the hallways the first time, they saw the exit this time as just a plain door, with a silver handle and a glowing red EXIT sign above it.

"That's too easy," said Sam, bracing himself for anything. Mal ignored him, opening the door and turning back to Sam with an eyebrow raised like 'see, was that so hard?'

"Sometimes it's just so."

Removed ahead of them, stepping just outside the door, closing her eyes and breathing the air.

"We need to leave, little one," said Mal, stepping behind River and staring down at her.

"Understood. We'll go his way."

"Can we trust him?" asked Mal softly. River smiled, tilting her head back and looking at him in that all knowing sort of way she had.

"You already do." Mal looked away thoughtfully, and River sighed, turning in the direction of Sam's car. "He's also the only one with transportation."

Mal rolled his eyes and glanced over at Sam, who was staring at River as she moved away. "Sam?"

"I've been looking for her for weeks," said Sam softly. He glanced down at his hand, turning it palm up, revealing a dark pattern of veins across it, outlined in irritated skin. "I dreamt about her, and the closer I got to her the more painful it got," he swallowed and looked up at Mal, holding his palm up for him to see. "I just touched her."

Mal didn't say anything, nothing really to say. He looked over at River, standing next to Sam's car, bent over and twisted around so she could look at the wheels properly. Mal had learned pretty quick that this place wasn't one he was used to, then, he wasn't used to much anymore. He and the crew had been looking for River for months after a scuffle went dark in a bar on a moon somewhere near Osiris. He figured that now she'd be the only one who could tell him what was going on, maybe even help him find the rest of the crew. He'd lost Serenity the minute midnight struck on the end of the year, been torn through something white with the rest of his crew and found himself on an empty ship with no power. Well, not entirely empty. Mal shook his head, ignored the feelings creeping over him. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Sam.

"What now?"

Sam blinked and looked away from his hand. "I haven't thought about it."

"We need to fix Serenity," called River, her hand hovering over the hood of the car. "She's broken, needs to be fixed."

"That'll be a problem, little one," Mal shouted back. "We don't have Kaylee to put the pieces together."

"Kaylee's gone," said River. "Can't talk to her for us any more. But Serenity still knows the words, if we listen."

"You are an odd one," whispered Mal. Sam walked past him towards River and his car, Mal followed.

"Who's Serenity?" asked Sam.

"She's a ship," said Mal. "Midbulk transport vessel, Firefly class." Sam gave him a strange look.

"Where are you from?"

"A long way from here," interrupted River softly. She moved around the car, her hand ghosting over the door handle. "When she danced the world opened up and we came spilling in. They're coming."

"Who is?" asked Mal. Sam could smell sulfur and he turned his head around to look for the source, spotting the familiar cloud of black moving quickly toward them.

"Shit." Sam pulled open the car door and grabbed Mal by the arm, ignoring his protests and pushing him into the car before moving around to the other side. River stood outside the door for a moment, staring at the black cloud, the wind kicking up her hair.

"Demons."

* * *

Sam pushed the car to it's limit trying to out drive the cloud of demons. River was turned around in the back seat, staring out the window at the cloud, traced the outline of the cloud with her fingertips, watching as it slowed behind them, or maybe they sped up.

"They're very confused," she whispered. Sam glanced at the back of her head through the rearview mirror, breathing a sigh of relief as he watched the cloud of demons disappear from sight. Mal was clutching the side of his chair, his eyes wide, an unreadable expression on his face. Sam's eyes flickered from his profile to the road, smirking.

"You okay, Captain?" Mal shot him a look.

"I ain't gettin' used to this crap anytime soon," grunted Mal. He nodded as they approached a fork in the road, pointing to the left. "Serenity's thataway."

Sam did as he was told, relaxing a bit into his seat seeing as how the onslaught of danger had pretty much passed. But hey, he'd told them once, and he'd say it again if he had to. It was too easy. For one, he wanted to know why touching River had given him a migraine. He could feel her watching him, the skin of her thighs sticking to the leather seats, he could feel her breathing in his head, felt the warmth creep across his chest. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to concentrate on the road.

"I can hear you, you know," she whispered and Mal looked over at him silently, sympathetically, like he knew what he must be going through. Sam's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Mal didn't have any idea what he was going through.

River slid forward in her seat, her hand bracing against a spot next to Sam's shoulder, looking past the windshield.

"Something there. Something wrong."

"What is it?" asked Mal, leaning over the dashboard, squinting so he could see.

"The Coming," said River in a hushed voice. She swallowed. "It's going to snow."

Sam frowned at her. "It's 80° outside."

"Don't think she means the cold stuff," muttered Mal, looking out at the sky. Sam slowed the car to a stop, the three of them staring out the windshield with open mouths, watching as something shadowed over the clouds and dropped to earth.

"Is that a bomb?" asked Sam. River moved back, curling her legs underneath her as Mal and Sam watched, shaking her head.

"No," she whispered. "It's much, much worse. We need to find cover now."

"Why? What's happening?" asked Sam, turning around in his seat to look at River. She opened her mouth to answer, interrupted by an explosion, sending shockwaves toward them. The ground split apart, sending earth, and tree and the car into the air.

Sam felt the air sucked out of his lungs, unable to do anything but watch as the ground disappeared, replaced by sunlight and blue sky. He could hear Mal screaming and turned his head to look at the older man. River had her eyes closed, her hair flying around her face, her chest moving rapidly as she hyperventilated. The sky disappeared and the ground flew at them. The car landed on it's side, rolling twice before it stopped, skidding with the remaining momentum it had.

River's eyes snapped open, her forehead feeling sticky with blood, she could feel a gash along her forehead throb, ignored it for the time being in exchange for the rest of the damage. She was lying on the roof of the car, glass littering the interior like glitter. She moved a bit on her stomach, feeling sore and bruised…but not broken. Drops of blood blossomed over her exposed skin as she moved against the glass, pushing her hair out of her face and blinking against the shadows in the car. The sunlight was still pouring through the glassless windows, catching on blood. She saw Sam first, his seat belt had broken. He looked a little less battered than her, save for the lesion down his arm, bleeding steadily. Mal wasn't in the car.

"S-Sam," said River painfully, closing one eye as the cut on her forehead bled down her temple, catching in the corner of her eye. She reached out for him, pushing the hair off his forehead gently, wincing as their skin touched. Sam jerked awake, groaning as he opened his eyes to look at her.

"This is the second car accident I've been in in the last two years," he grumbled. He coughed and turned his head, shaking the glass out of his hair. "Where's Mal?" River averted her eyes, feeling her chest constrict.

The heavy sound of footsteps caught their attention, followed by a sweet sounding voice and a pair of freckled legs, stopping next to the car door.

"Kane! They're in here!" Sam watched as the pair of legs braced against the pavement, shielding his eyes as the person attached ripped the metal door off, setting it aside and squatting down to look at them. It was a redhead, maybe twenty years old, covered in an ungodly amount of freckles from head to foot. She smiled brightly at them.

"I'm Missy," she said, her voice sugar coated. "Don't move too much. Any injuries you have will just be exacerbated if you try and get out yourself." she looked up as another girl joined her; snow white hair, fair skin, and just as beautiful as Missy. She smiled down at the redhead before bending forward to look at Sam and River.

"They don't look too bad," she said. "Kane's on his way, wanted to make sure Wesson could handle the other guy-"

"Mal," said Sam suddenly. "Is he okay?"

"Thrown from a flying car, he's what you'd expect to be," said the blonde, blinking at him. "We're pretty good at war wounds though. You're in good hands."

"Transgenics," groaned River, shifting on her arms to get a better look at the girls. "Science experiments designed to be the perfect human, to survive an unsurvivable war." the girls stared at her, so did Sam. River looked over at him, giving him a look. "You were wondering who the blonde was. Her designation is X5-281. She also goes by Aurora."

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but River held up her hand, cutting him off. "You were staring."

Aurora laughed, a fake sound that only seemed genuine by the way she smiled. "You're girlfriend has nothing to worry about."

The heavy sound of footsteps reached their ears, steady and strong. Missy and Aurora looked around the car, nodding to the man who walked around into view. Sam's mouth dropped open. He was a giant, white, pointy-eared man. Thing. Man-thing. And his skin wasn't just white, it was _shock_ white. River poked his cheek with her finger, and they both ignored the crackle of electricity.

"Don't stare," she chided. The pale man must have been Kane, and he smiled at River, kneeling down until he was practically inside the car, grabbing onto the passengers seat and giving it a good tug. Sam winced as the metal gave way and with another couple tugs, came free altogether.

Missy offered River her hand when Kane steped away with the seat of the car. She took it, letting Missy pull her weight out of the car. She stumbled in the sunshine, staring up at the sky. Her eyes kept upwards as Missy pulled out Sam, feeling him watch her, itching to touch her. Instead he followed her gaze, his lips parting in astonishment.

"It's snowing," breathed River, closing her eyes. Aurora's breath caught in her throat, her hair whirling around her face as she looked around, screaming the name Wesson and running down the down the road, disappearing from sight in a blur. Missy's breathing became shallow, staring at the sky with them.

"That's not snow."

Sam looked over at her sharply, in time to see her wipe out the terrified look in her eyes. She stared back at him for a moment before sliding past him. Sam let his eyes follow her, caught movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Aurora carrying a very unconscious Mal over her shoulder like he weighted nothing, a sixteen year old boy walking next to her.

"We have to get the hell out of here," said Wesson, looking nervous and determined. Sam looked over at River, stepped closer to her until he could feel her hair brush against his skin.

"River?"

Her head was still tilted up towards the sky, her eyes closed. They opened slowly, her breath catching on the air. She turned her head, looking past Kane and Missy to the open road ahead of them, in the direction they were going.

"That way," she whispered, her eyes unfocused for a moment before falling onto Kane. "There's a bomb shelter at the end of the road. A shelter against bombs. The spores falling like snow from the sky eat at our skin, the black follows shortly after, waiting to fill bodies like water," she closed her eyes, fingers dancing in the air. "Pouring in, like rain in a gutter."

Sam reached out for her, biting back the pain coursing through his fingertips and pulling her back to him, moving his arm around the front of her chest. Her fingers glanced across his wrist. "How fast can we get there?"

"Why? You thinkin' of walkin'?" asked Kane, jerking his head to the left and across the street, where a beaten up minivan was parked. He grinned at them. "Ride in style."

Missy drives. No arguments. She has a lead foot and quick reflexes, ignoring the dangerous sounds the shell of the car is making as they push ninety in a twenty-five. River sat in the back with Sam, her fingertips ghosting over his face, testing the waters. Aurora was cleaning up some of the cuts on Mal's face and Wesson started drawing his own blood. Sam gave him a look.

"What are you doing?"

"Our blood has stem cells," muttered Wesson, sounding like he still hasn't hit puberty. He glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye and pulled the needle out of his arm deftly. "It'll heal him faster."

Aurora looked over at River, her eyes flickering over her body and smirked. "Did you just break out of a mental hospital or something?"

"Pretty much," said Sam. River was still wearing the sea foam green gown that she'd been wearing inside the building they'd broken her out of. It had only been a few hours ago, they hadn't had time to stop anywhere and get her something. Aurora smiled knowingly and reached under her seat, pulling out a worn-out, dirty, yellow back pack; unzipping it and pulling out a dark blue knit dress. It was simple and short, but it caught River's attention and she pulled away from Sam momentarily to take the dress gingerly from Aurora's hands.

"Belonged to my girlfriend," she said, and Sam thought he saw her mask shudder for a split-second. "She was your size. Should fit all right."

The sound of another bomb (or whatever it was, if he couldn't call it a bomb what was it?) dropping had all of them looking up and over their shoulders, looking down the road in the distance. They watched the abandoned car shoot up into the air, sheets of metal flying off it. Sam tightens his grip on the duffle bag next to his leg, secure, knowing, there. It had his guns and holy water and a couple exorcisms he didn't have completely memorized and a change of clothes. But mostly guns.

Missy pushed the minivan harder, if that was even possible.

It was a rusted old bunker on the outside of a small town (maybe fifty people tops), they nearly drove into it, it was so covered in foliage, if it hadn't been for River and Missy's reflexes. Wesson looked like he was going to piss himself and it was just their luck that the jerk of the car was all it took to get Mal to wake up. He blinked up at the ceiling of the car, grunting in pain. Sam leaned over the seat, looking down at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Captain?"

"I don't want to know," grumbled Mal, wincing as he sat up. Kane and Missy were already grabbing their things, and Aurora was out of the car, fishing under the seats and pulling out a lightweight machine gun, strapping it over her shoulder just as the first of the spores started to fall to earth.

Another bomb dropped.

_Or How To Bond Over Cigars and Sarcasm_

It was just after, it had to be. It had to be because every thing was black and white and silent. The kind of silent that makes you nervous and know, just _know_ that something terrible is going to happen, but maybe it had already happened. Dean's vision was swimming and sideways when he opened his eyes. He was lying on the empty road, the door of his car hanging open and the left side of his face bloody from his fall (or maybe he collapsed, he had to have collapsed). He groaned, reaching up to grip the car door and pull himself into a sitting position. His head was throbbing, images of a dancing woman filling his head. He coughed up dirt and what looked like a leaf before looking around at the damage.

Or what he could have sworn was damage. There had to have been damage, the cracks in the earth, _something_…

Oh, there was _something_…

Dean couldn't move very quickly, he found, when he was looking directly at…whatever it was. It was like a tear in the dimension, which just _sounded_ ridiculous, but the air maybe twenty feet away from him was shimmering, passing over trees and taking them like they were never there. Dean swallowed, watching with wide eyes as something dark _inside_ the air moved. It seemed to turn and look directly at him (which was creepy). He watched what looked like a face and teeth open its mouth soundlessly and scream at him, its hand pushing through the air it was contained in, but just as quickly getting sucked back in.

That was the last freaky straw. Dean threw himself into his car and reversed the hell out of there, kicking up dust as he made a U-turn and drove. But he didn't get far before he noticed something falling from the sky. At first he thought it was all in his head, but when he had to turn on the windshield wipers he pulled over to the side of the road, next to a bus stop and squinted out the windshield, up at the sky.

Dean jumped as something slammed into the drivers side of his car, something heavy and bloody and human. Dean stared, wide eyed, watching what used to be a person fall against the window. The stuff falling from the sky was sticking to it, burning off skin where it stuck, burning off muscle and hollowing out bone. Dean's mouth fell open, flinching away from the door as the body dropped to the ground.

"Oh my god," said Dean in a hushed voice. He leaned against his window, staring at the ground, trying to see the person who'd just been eaten away on his car. Whatever had happened seemed to have stopped. The sky seemed to have stopped raining flesh eating powder and very carefully Dean opened his door, glancing up at the sky to make sure the powder stuff really had stopped falling. He flinched away as some of the stuff fell off his car and onto his head, and he waited for something to happen. But nothing did.

Dean looked at the ground, at the person there and sighed. "Poor bastard," he muttered, climbing out of the car. His movement sent the bones to dust, scattering across the dirt road on a breeze that wasn't there. Dean closed his eyes, shaking the wigged feeling out of his head before opening them again to see where he'd stopped.

He sucked in a breath, unable, for a moment, to properly breathe. He thought he turned into an empty bus stop, but it didn't look like it used to be so empty. There were at least twelve bodies lying on the ground, some of them looked like his friend the disintegrated corpse, a few of them were whole. All of them were dead.

Dean felt the wind pick up behind him suddenly and turned his head. A familiar looking cloud of black crackled over him, and he watched, feeling the tattoo on his chest burn against his skin, as the cloud coiled and split, shooting down towards the earth an into the dead bodies lying around the bus stop. Dean watched them twitch and move and stand, looking at him with black eyes and smirking faces.

"Crap," growled Dean, taking a step or two back before he spun on his heel and headed around his car, throwing open the trunk and pulling out every bit of holy water and salt he could find. It really fucking sucked that he didn't have to Colt anymore, because wouldn't that have been just dandy? No, Sam had to go and take it with him, wherever the fuck he had gone. Dean gripped the container of holy water in one hand, pausing for one dark moment before he moved around his car, flinging holy water at the demons walking towards him.

He watched a few of them scream, holding their faces in pain, giving him the chance to arm his shot gun and pump a couple of them full of rock salt. He was too busy alternating between defensive and offensive that he forgot to watch him back. Two things happened in one moment; the first was the hand on his shoulder, turning him roughly around and the second was the sound of a gun and feeling of blood on the side of his face. Dean blinked in shock, turning sharply to see a big man holding a very nice looking gun. Dean reacted automatically, turning his shotgun on the man and shouting at him.

"Who the hell are you!"

"Get your gorram gun _outta_ my face." Dean swung his shot gun over his shoulder angrily, glaring at the big man who had admittedly just saved his life, but had dropped in on the party totally uninvited. Dean opened his mouth to ask _again_ who this dude was before he was interrupted by one of the demons behind him, catching both their attentions.

"You really think you can kill us?" laughed one of them. "That's not gonna do anything but slow us do-"

Dean pulled out a book from the inside of his jacket and turned to the page Sammy had booked marked for quick and easy exorcisms. He recited in inexperienced Latin, cursing Sam for leaving him to do this shit the whole time. As he recited he could hear the sound of gun shots hitting bodies in succession and figured this guy might not be so bad to keep around, especially with a gun like that.

"Dean Winchester," shouted Dean over the screaming demons after he finished the exorcism. The other man looked at him, lowering his gun as the hollowed out people dropped to the ground.

"Jayne Cobb." Dean looked over at him, looked him over for a moment before deciding that he could definitely be useful, especially since he had no idea what was going on.

"You need a ride?"

Jayne looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Where you headed?"

"Anywhere I'm needed," said Dean with a shrug. "Why, is there somewhere you need to be?"

"None particular. Dropped on this crazy rock 'bout three days ago. Looking for my crew, but hell I ain't in no hurry."

Dean frowned at him. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Do I look like I am?"

Dean shook his head, running a hand over his face in annoyance. "This day is just getting weirder and weirder."

The weirdness didn't seem to cease with Jayne however, for one, the man had no idea what a car was, and if that wasn't weird enough, dude had at least five guns in a bag he had with him. And apparently he named them all. Dean ignored him as he drove, keeping a lookout for a bar. Dean frowned, seeing someone in the distance. Jayne was too busy looking at his guns and freaking out about the freaking car to notice, but he looked up when Dean slowed down, pulling over to the side of the road and rolling down his window to talk to the guy.

"You lost?" asked Dean, dropping his elbow against the door and leaning out the window slightly. What Dean though was a man looked over at him, red eyes sunk into a leathery green head narrowed at him, glancing over Dean's car before looking at Dean.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"'Scuse me?"

"You look older."

"Do I know you?" asked Dean, wondering if a unicorn was going to appear at any moment and just round out his whole day. The creature-y thing seemed to think something over for a minute before sighing (like this was such a chore, being rescued from the side of the road.) and propping a sawed-off shotgun up on his shoulder.

"Fucking Manticore," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

"You need a ride?" called out Jayne, causing Dean to glance over at him, giving him a look that said 'are you freaking crazy?' The green thing snorted.

"Keep driving, honeybunches." Dean rolled his eyes and turned back to the wheel of his car, starting it up again. _Bunch of fucking freaks_…

Dean was still muttering to himself by the time he spotted a bar about twenty minutes away. He sighed in relief, pulling into the parking lot.

"I need a shot of whisky," muttered Jayne, practically flying out of the car, Dean nodded in agreement and followed, feeling the air-conditioned cool his skin the second he walked in. He gave Jayne a look when the man just stood in the entrance, soaking it up, nodding to an empty table in the corner.

They ordered drinks from a skinny redhead with a nice ass and sat in silence for half an hour, drinking and leering at the pretty waitress who kept coming back to their table. It couldn't have been half an hour though, because there was no way it could have been less for that scaly looking guy to have walked to that bar in the twenty minutes it had taken them to drive there. But the clock said twenty minutes had past, and the door opened for the giant lizard man, catching the attention of everyone in the bar. He didn't seem to mind all that much, just chewed a bit on the cigar in his mouth and looked around. He rolled his eyes when he spotted Dean and Jayne staring at him, but moved to their table anyways, grunting at their waitress to bring him a shot of jack.

The three of them looked at each other, ignoring the stares from the other patrons as they drank in silence. Jayne tossed the last of his drink down his throat and grabbed the bottle in the center of the table to pour himself more.

"So, you got a name?" he asked. Lizard man shrugged.

"Depends on who you ask," he growled. "I go by Mole."

They lapsed into silence for a minute, filling their glasses and drinking their booze when Mole spoke up again.

"I'm looking for the Conclave."

"The what?"

"You mean the Alliance," quipped Jayne. Dean made a face and glanced at him.

"What planet are you from?"

"Sure ain't one you've been to," muttered Jayne, sulking a bit as he leaned back in his seat. Mole rolled his cigar between his teeth for a moment.

"I assume you ape's have noticed the increase in bodies?"

"So what?"

"That's the Conclave's doing," grunted Mole, pulling his cigar out of his mouth and reaching for his glass of whisky. "The planets aligned or one of their snakes sneezed too loud, I don't know, actually really don't care. All I'm looking to do is find the damn cult and stop 'em before my kind starts getting slaughtered."

"You're kind?" asked Dean. "You're not just some lost trekky?" both Jayne and Mole gave him a confused look, which made Dean seriously evaluate the sanity of these people. "What, do you two live in caves?"

"I was created in a government facility to be used in military combat, but after it burned down last year, me and mine have been rounded up and killed. And you think I'm living in a cave."

Dean shook his head, holding up his hands for silence. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. When did this happen?"

"2021. I think in August." Jayne choked on his drink, covering his mouth with his wrist. Dean was staring at Mole with his mouth hanging open.

"I think you're mistaken," said Dean slowly. "This is 2008."

"Either way you look at it, I'm in the wrong century," muttered Jayne, catching both Dean and Mole's attention. "Five hundred years off, but hey, I ain't so good at math."

"What the hell is going on?" asked Dean, leaning back heavily in his chair. His companions did the same, each one picking up their glasses of whisky and downing them simultaneously.

It was going to be a long ass trip.

Mole and Jayne found out quickly that Dean didn't like it when they touched his car in any way improper. Mole laughed it off, but Jayne got sucker punched and cut his arm on one of his guns after he scratched the paint job with a semiautomatic he called Vera.

He grumbled in the back seat, trying to wrap his arm, listening to Dean and Mole talk idly. Mole stared at Dean, scrutinizing him with narrowed eyes, chewing on his cigar.

"You look uncomfortably familiar," he muttered, earning a snort from Dean.

"Oh trust me, I'd remember a face like yours."

Jayne used his teeth to tear off the end of the bandage wrapped around his arm, glancing up at his companions in the front of the boat…or car, as it were. He tossed the remaining gauze at them, watching as it bounced off the head of the scaly, green thing he was learning was called a Transhuman. Mole rolled red eyes onto Jayne, pulling his cigar out of his mouth and flicking ashes in his direction.

"Hey, hey, not in the car!" shouted Dean, glaring at Mole. "I will throw your scaly ass out of here-"

"I would love to see you try, ape."

"Who are you calling an ape?"

Jayne leaned forward in his seat, resting his forearm on his knees as he squinted out the windshield at something in the distance. "_Reavers_."

"What the hell is a reaver?" snapped Mole, turning around in his seat to look at Jayne.

"_Alliance_ experiment. Made normal humans mad out of their minds. They go around killin' folk, cuttin' on themselves, eatin' people. Ain't right."

"They've got someone," said Dean, slamming his foot on the gas, driving straight at the pack of reavers. They looked up at the sound of the Impalla, roaring, blood covered heads thrown back, pulling away from their victim. One or two of them weren't wearing clothes, five in total, ripped at each other as they ran towards the car, hitting the bumper and the windshield as Dean drove through them, screeching to a stop just in front of the person on the ground. Dean pulled out his gun from the waistband of his jeans, Jayne picked up Vera and Mole settled his shotgun on his shoulder, kicking the passengers side door open and stepping out.

"Don't you have a pretty face," he said around his cigar, cocking his shot gun and firing directly into the face of a reaver coming at him. Jayne picked off another as he stepped out of the car, and Dean took out two with one shot, blowing out the back of their sculls. He turned to look at Mole and Jayne, already standing over the person on the ground.

"She's alive," said Mole gruffly. The woman sat up, glaring at him.

"Of course I'm alive. I _can _handle my own." Dean moved around his car, and froze.

"Bela?" the brunette woman looked up at him, her face was cut some and she was holding a gash across her stomach, but other than that looked unharmed. She rolled her eyes.

"Dean Winchester. Must be a Tuesday."

"Christ, we should have just left her to be eaten," cursed Dean, earning a look from Jayne.

"They'd do more than just eat her," said Jayne. "They would have raped her to death, eaten her flesh and sown her skin into their clothing."

"If I was lucky they would have done it in that order as well," added Bela. She smirked at Dean. "But I seem to have lost my lucky rabbits foot, so who knows what might have happened if you hadn't shown up."

"And how do you know about reavers?" asked Dean, narrowing his eyes and folding his arms across his chest. Bela gave him a look.

"Please, Dean," said Bela, raising an eyebrow. He rolled his eyes. "Now is one of you going to help me up, or do I have to do it myself? I _am_ injured after all."

Jayne moves to help her, while Dean and Mole just roll their eyes and head back to the car. Bela smirks at Dean's back, but accepts Jayne's help, her hand keeping pressure on her stomach. She moved to follow Dean, but stopped when he pulled a gun on her, pressing the muzzle against her chest and forcing her back at step.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't leave your ass here," he growled. Bela swallowed, her eyes flickering to the gun at her chest to Dean's face.

"Because I have information that could very easily clear up the situation for you." Dean hesitated, scoffing and lowering his gun.

"Spirits?" he spit out, rolling his eyes when Bela gave no indication otherwise. He looked back at Mole and Jayne (who was keeping close eye on Bela's ass). "Fine. We'll make it a goddamn party."

_Or How One Destroys A Secret Government Facility_

Almost half an hour after the end of the world started she and Alec were out of TC. Hell, the weird thing the air was doing was still going on by the time they'd raced out of Seattle. So far, the end of the world was like any other normal day for them. Except when the spores started falling from the sky, that one threw them for about a minute before Alec commented that this was probably the Coming, that White had been talking about.

_So this is what the end of the world fells like_, mused Max for what had to be the seventh time in three days, covering her mouth with one hand as it rained spores down on her and Alec, standing next to her with a stony expression marring his pretty face. He flicked the Conclaves idea of apocalypse off his coat and glanced at Max.

"It's your turn."

Max nodded and stepped up next to the fence separating them from the Conclave. It was just an office building, surrounded by chain link fence, barbed wire, and creepy people in robes holding snakes.

"I hate this part," grumbled Max, taking a knee and dropping the duffle bag she was carrying onto the ground. She unzipped it, pulling out a pack of C4, a few wires and a stick of cherry flavored bubblegum. She popped the gum in her mouth and picked up a glock, holding it out for Alec to take.

"I thought you said you grabbed them all?"

"Musta forgotten one."

"Whatever, Alec. You got my back?" He smirked at the back of her head.

"Always."

They had blow apart two of these places so far. Places the Conclave had set up in areas where transgenics had cumulated. The first one had been right outside Seattle, the second had been in Eugene, Oregon where a few Marine transhumans had set up a community, this one had lead them into South Dakota. Alec had commented on the increase of trannie haters since they had crossed the border, cracking uneasy jokes about how the Conclave could just leave it up to them to finish their people here. Max hadn't answered him, she had barely spoken to him through the trip, just let him prattle on until he was sick of hearing himself talk.

Alec glanced over her shoulder as she set the wiring for the bomb. "We all set?"

"Five by five," said Max standing up again. She glanced under her eyebrows at the building and the cult loonies in front of it, making sure they weren't noticed. Alec picked up the duffle bag and moved to toss it behind them, next to their bikes.

"Alec?"

"Yeah?" Alec tossed over his shoulder, not looking back at Max as he arranged a piece of bush against their stuff. He looked over at her when she didn't reply and frowned at her, just staring at the cult building. "What is it, Max?"

"It's another one of those things." Alec started, blurring back to Max's side, zooming in past the fence at the cult, seemingly running around in a panic, away from a black cloud, crackling with lightning.

"_Shit._"

"Let's go," snapped Max, looking down at the device in her hands and setting it. Alec looked at her, squinting as the wind picked up, kicking up the dirt.

"What the hell are you doing?" shouted Alec

"Blowing this mother, it's why we're here!" Max shouted back, reeling her arm back and throwing the explosive over the fence and into the mêlée of black and Conclave members. Alec stepped into Max's space, his shoulder brushing against hers as he stared at the impending explosion. They could feel the heat from the blast wash against their faces, narrowing their eyes against the bits of flesh and debris that flew at them. Alec felt something warm inside him swell with something like pride and he could feel Max smiling.

"_Fenos'tol_, bitches."

The pride faded fast, however, and when shit started catching fire Alec grabbed Max's wrist, tugging her away from the fence and back toward their bikes, slinging the duffle bag full of ammo over his shoulder. Max looked over at Alec, who was looking wistfully back at the devastated building, watching the smoke cloud separate and regroup, almost like it was alive.

"What do you think it is, Max?" asked Alec. He looked back at her, his face still kind of soft when the sound of a shotgun caught both their attentions. He went stony and serious very quickly, pulling his gun out of the waistband of his pants, arming himself…

Against some old guy in a fishing hat. Alec snorted, glancing over at Max in amusement and 'is this guy serious?', receiving the same look. The old guy looked startled for a second, lowering his weapon slightly.

"Dean?" Max looked over at him.

"How many aliases do you have?"

"Too many," said Alec. "But that's not one of them." Bobby looked from the pretty girl in leather to Dean (or someone who looked a hell of a lot like him), sitting on top of a green motorcycle…So maybe it wasn't Dean.

"The hell is going on?" muttered Bobby, lowering his gun completely. The Dean-look-alike leaned back on his bike, gun still trained on him, and looked over at his companion, eyebrows raised.

"I don't think he's heard of us, Maxie."

"Stop being a smart-ass, Alec" said Max, swinging her leg off her bike, glaring. "I'm just gonna knock him out and then we'll be on our merry way."

"Now, hold the hell on," growled Bobby, taking a few steps forward, only to stop short when Alec raised his gun at him, the teasing, amused, almost superior expression in both their eyes replaced by something cold an calculated that Bobby hadn't ever seen before. Bobby raised his hands slowly. "Let's not do anything that could cause permanent damage, son."

"Who the hell are you?" asked Max, frowning at Bobby. Alec climbed off his bike and stood next to her, wearing the same expression.

"Bobby Singer. I suppose you two are transgenic?"

Alec snorted, lowering his gun. "He _really_ doesn't know who we are."

"This jackass is Alec," said Max, nodding to Alec. "And I'm Max."

"Transgenic leaders then," amended Bobby. "You two are a long way from home."

"Seattle isn't exactly in walking distance," said Max with a shrug, but Bobby shook his head.

"I mean wrong year. You're about ten years off the mark. That's what happened when the rift opened." Max scoffed.

"Okay, I was made in a lab and even _that_ sounds a little too science fictiony for me." Alec nodded in agreement.

"You see some of the freaks we see everyday. Trust me when I tell you it's saying something." Bobby rolled his eyes, looking around the two to the damage on the other side of the fence.

"Looks like you did good work getting rid of the demons."

"Wasn't really the priority. We were going for the cult," said Max. Alec pointed at him accusingly.

"You said demons. Like, risen up from the depths of Hell, demons?"

Bobby chuckled. "We have a lot to talk about, I'm sure you'll learn fast." He turned, walking back to the road towards an old, cliché pickup truck. Alec turned to Max, who had her eyes narrowed, watching him go.

"I don't like him."

"He's got information," reasoned Alec. Max rolled her eyes, elbowing him in the side.

"So does Logan." Alex gave her a look.

"You really think _Logan_ 'll believe us when we tell him about the giant black cloud that took over a dozen cult loonies? What about when we tell him their eyes turned black and they tossed me out a window like I was a sock puppet?" Max huffed.

"Like that's so hard." Alec glared at her.

"They almost killed us."

Max sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. Alec tried not to grin or look too excited that they were going with his idea for once, but the look Max gave him said very clearly that if this got them killed she was going to kick his ass. Alec held up his hands in silent acceptance and turned back to his bike, starting it up and following Bobby, Max close behind him.

They followed Bobby to a salvage yard just a couple miles from the facility they'd just cauterized. There's a dog at the gate that immediately has Alec going tense, but he wags his tail at them and tries to lick Alec's face as they walk into the rundown house after Bobby.

"Manticore would be displeased," teased Max, grinning as Alec wiped his face off with his jacket sleeve. Alec rolled his eyes at her and stops just short of crossing the threshold into Bobby's house, staring wide-eyed at the mess.

"Holy crap."

"I suppose you kids have seen your fair share of demons, since the rift opened up," said Bobby over his shoulder, picking up a couple stray books and tossing them onto a bookshelf. Max folded her arms across her chest, keeping her body tuned, just in case this guy was one of White's people.

"Demons?"

"The black smoke, that's a demon's essence," explained Bobby. "A whole mess of them slipped out of Hell a few months back, seems like they're interested in the Conclave."

"How do you know about the Conclave?" asked Max, her eyes narrowing. "And transgenics?"

Bobby sighed, quirking his finger, indicating that they should follow him. They did, warily, into the kitchen, where Bobby pulled out a couple beers and a vial of something powdery and off-white. He tossed them each a beer and carefully handed the vial to Max.

"That is the Coming," said Bobby. "A mixture of bio-toxins found in a particular kind of snake the Conclave has worshiped for over a millennia. Their leaders were born of this snake and of human genes. They're worshiped, feared, followed. The Conclave is drying out the venom into spores, using them in bombs and dropping them all over the world. This is the Coming.

"Transgenics are immune. So are a few humans, one in three to be accurate. I'm a hunter, mostly ghosts and demons, the sort of thing fairytales are made of. You two have been doing a damn good job blowing up things."

"I feel like I'm in a nightmare," muttered Alec, opening his beer bottle and drinking half of it. He coughs, because it doesn't taste right and looked up at Bobby accusingly. "What the hell is this?"

"Mixed with holy water," said Bobby simply, reaching over to take the vial back from Max. She hands it over after a moment of hesitation, but she does, watching it go right back in the refrigerator. "Just in case I get any demons stopping by."

Alec scoffs to himself and takes another drink, rolling the liquid around his tongue, sorting through the water and the beer. Max's stayed silent, her lips pursed in thought. She glanced at the wall of phones next to her when one of them rings, stepping closer to Alec when Bobby stands up to get it, like she's protecting his dumb ass. Bobby answered in a gruff, hollow voice and raised an eyebrow when the person on the other line speaks.

"Jo?"

"_Th-thank God, Bobby."_ Her voice shakes and Max feels kind of bad for eavesdropping. _"I'm in Arizona…should have taken your advice and gotten that tattoo."_

"You were possessed?" asked Bobby, almost angrily, clutching the plastic phone so hard that even without her revved up hearing she'd be able to hear the plastic bend under his fingers. "Dammit, Jo, how'd-"

"_The bitch, Bela Talbot exorcized me."_ Jo's teeth are grinding together in pain, Max can tell and she glances at Alec who's doing a better job of pretending he can't hear their conversation than she is.

"I'll be there soon."

"_There's something else Bobby."_ Max can hear Bobby holding his breath._ "There's someone named Zoë here with me. She's got information about some of these things…"_

"The Reavers," finished Bobby, closing his eyes and taking a moment. He turned to Alec and Max, raising an eyebrow. "You two heard all that, I suppose you're looking to leave, continue picking off the Conclave?"

Alec raised his eyebrows at Max, silently telling her that it was her call, she was the boss. Max's mouth twisted in thought before she sighed and cocked her head, grinning at Bobby. "We're handy in combat."

He seemed relieved and gruffs out a 'hang tight' to Jo, telling the younger two to follow him on their bikes. Alec pulled Max to the side, leaning into her shoulder and lowering his mouth down to her ear.

"_We're handy in combat_? I thought we were just here for information?" Max turned her head towards him, causing his lips to brush against her cheek.

"Look, this guy knows his shit," hissed Max, ignoring the skin-to-skin contact, taking half a step away from him and propping her hands on her hips. "He knows about the Coming, us, and whatever the hell else is goin' on. We stick with him and maybe he can help us out."

"I don't know, Max," muttered Alec, shaking his head. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand tiredly for a moment before shrugging. "But I got your back."

Max smirked at him, punching him lightly in the shoulder. "Ditto."


	3. Part II

**Part II. the middle**

_Or How to Suffer a Demon Trapped Inside a Demon_

Donald was leaning against his truck, the paint peeling off at the corners, gritty with rust. The scars across his arms stood out against the harsh light, folded across his chest, skin slick under the heat of Arizona. He stared through narrow eyes at the two figures in the parking lot, standing together, so familiar. He watched dark hair shift in the wind, full lips pull across perfect teeth in a smile. He watched Max glance over her shoulder, at the closed motel door and then back at 494. He did look so much like his clone.

494's head jerked suddenly, his head swiveling around and suddenly he was looking through the heat rising from the pavement and straight at him. He mentally scoffed and pushed himself away from his truck, the movement cooling his skin. 494 always was quicker than Ben.

He watched Max's eyes widen for a split second then roll. She ignored 494's growl of _Max_ and stalked towards Donald, her eyes flashing against the sunlight.

"Lydercker." Her voice was low and challenging, a bit on the sarcastic side, (like he was inconveniencing her, showing his broken face around here) it carried through the heated parking lot and across the street to the 7-11 where he was parked. Donald ignored the traffic (what traffic? It was the end of the world, there was no traffic.) and crossed the street, meeting Max halfway, 494 watching her back, his fingers twitching for the knife strapped to his ankle. Max stopped, hands on her hips. "What the hell are you doin? Stalking me?"

He couldn't help the chuckle, dark as it was, that exhaled through his nose. "You would think you would be harder to find." She glared at him, and tilted her head to the side, watching him through dark eyes. He cleared his throat. "Heard about the mess you're making. Thought I'd shed a little light."

"You think we're stupid?" scoffed Max, raising an eyebrow and planting her feet into the pavement. "What makes you think we don't know everything you do and then some."

"Stop being so damn cocking, 452," snapped Donald, his eyes hardening. He brushed past her, feeling her bristle. Her boots scrapped against the ground as she spun around, staring at him as he walked up to Ben's clone, giving the boy a smile and a nod. "494."

"It's Alec," he snapped through gritted teeth. "Wouldn't expect you to get it on the first try, _Deck_."

"I always did like you, 494," mused Donald, sneering at the way Alec's eyes darkened a little with rage and fear and memories. "You never did stay out of the loop of anything for long. Only a matter of time before you and Max started running things."

"How do you know-"

"I haven't been dead for the past year," interrupted Donald, ignoring Max as she stomped up behind him, her question still burning on her tongue. "I've been in hiding. The conclave tried to kill me."

"Yeah, well, who the hell wouldn't," growled Alec, stepping forward into Donald's space, glaring down his nose at the older man. Donald smirked, unaffected. "Step back son. I'm here to help you."

Max wedged herself between Alec and Lydecker, forcing them back and away from each other. "Help us with what?"

* * *

The skin on Bobby's arms was starting to cake with blood, staining up past his elbows and splattered against his clothes. The woman Jo had been with, Zoë, had nearly been torn to pieces by something or someone, he didn't know, she hadn't been conscious long enough to tell him. He had fixed her up as best he could, she seemed like a fighter and it was only a matter of time before they found out if she would survive or not.

Bobby sighed and sat back on the bed next to Zoë, brining his hand to the bridge of his nose to massage some of the tension out. Jo hadn't been there when he and the transgenics arrived, and it gave him the sinking suspicion that she might not have been exorcised in the first place. More lies, like dirty fingers streaking against stark white cloth.

Bobby looked over his shoulder at the closed door behind him. Max and Alec hadn't wanted to come in, which was unfortunate, he could have used their medical expertise (or at least Alec's from what his research on Manticore had told him, Max was pretty much useless) on Zoë.

The whirling click of a gun not from this time echoed in the peeling wallpaper, close to the side of his face. Bobby tensed, closing his eyes briefly and turning his head to find himself staring down a very long gun barrel and into the fiery dark eyes of the woman he had been treating.

"Feeling better?" he was too annoyed at the irony to not be sarcastic. "You should put your arm down before you get dizzy and pass out."

"You must be Singer," her voice was strong and grainy sounding. "M'Zoë."

"So are you from the distant future or the not so distant future?" Zoë raised an unamused eyebrow, lowering her gun and pressing it up against her thigh. Bobby's eyes followed the path it took, the bandages around her stomach and arms catching in his peripheral. "So?"

"I don't think I can answer that proper," said Zoë. "My ship went down, don't know how long ago, don't much care to know, but it went down. Bits of my home tore me to pieces and left me to die. So you tell me. What future do you see me in?"

Bobby was quite, seemed it only respectful. The woman had nothing but bits of metal still caught in her flesh, too small for him to remove. But he was never one to suffer the art of tact. "I'd have to say very distant future. You know about the Reavers, then."

"Run into my share, yeah," said Zoë, turning her head away from him. "They around?"

"Haven't run into any as of yet," he chuckled darkly. "Of course, Reavers aren't the only thing to worry about."

"That I know," said Zoë softly. "Been lookin' for a way to stay out of the world and we just keep getting pushed further in. Before she left, the girl who dragged me into this _fèn kǒng,_ she was talking. Me, I was half insensible with pain, merely caught bit and pieces. She mentioned something about a girl I know. Name's River Tam. We were looking for her long before our ship went down, the crew I'm on. She said someone named Sam Winchester had found her."

Bobby swore under his breath, half in relief that Sam was alive and half because the kid was a giant idjit. The big doofus really had no idea how to cover his tracks when he was on a mission. Zoë raised an eyebrow. "Take it you know him."

Bobby grunted in reply, opening his mouth to say something along those lines when the motel door swung open and Alec and Max stomped in. Alec looked stony and Max looked pissed (not that they're expressions changed much, Bobby was starting to notice). They were closely followed by an older man. Bobby stood up, his eyes flickering over the trio.

"Don't get comfortable," hissed Alec, throwing himself into the desk chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Who the hell is this?" asked Bobby, frowning at the older man. Max rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Colonel Lydecker-"

"We call him Deck," snapped Alec, glancing over at Bobby. He did a double take, blinking at Zoë on the bed. "Who's this?"

"Zoë," said Bobby. "She's coming with us."

"Is she?" muttered Alec. "And where exactly are we going, grandpa?"

"It's Bobby, ya idjit. And we're taking out the Conclave." Alec straightened up in his seat, his arms falling to his sides.

"We are?"

"It'll solve our problems faster if we get rid of the most manageable threat first," interrupted Lydecker. All eyes flickered to him and Bobby narrowed his eyes. Lydecker looked at Alec and scoffed. "I trained you better than to brood in a corner and take orders, 494."

The muscles in Alec's face tightened and he looked away, propping an elbow up on the table.

"We have coordinates of three other locations," said Max, matter-of-fact, pulling a folded up map from her back pants pocket. She ignored Lydecker's open hand and moved to the table where Alec was sitting, unfolding it and lying it flat. "I figure, Alec and I can check them out and blow 'em to kingdom come. Very little chance you'll get your hands dirty-"

"Unless the demons show up," finished Bobby. "Soulless beings such as those in the Conclave are perfect hosts for 'em."

"Nothing's worse than the breeding cult," said Max, quirking an eyebrow and cocking her head slightly as she concentrated on the map. "Trust me, they're as strong as we are. Not as fast, defiantly not as smart, but they don't feel pain and they don't punk out."

"You still don't understand what a demon is, do you?" it wasn't a question. Max looked up at him, at the icy tone is voice had taken. "A demon was once a person. Their souls turned black by inexplicable torture. Souls ripping apart other souls with their bare hands, tearing to shreds only to be put back whole again. A demon wants nothing but destruction and chaos. In a normal human host their strength, any power they posses, will increase. A demon in possession of a member of the Conclave would cause inexplicable amounts of damage."

Max idly scratched the back of her neck, at a spot right below her neck. She and Alec shared a look.

"You expect my kids to believe that?" asked Lydecker. Bobby glared at him.

"I expect them to believe what they see and adapt. You're not the only person who knows how to lead an army."

Max and Alec were still staring at each other, ignoring the ordinaries as they argued. They spoke with their eyes, Alec asking Max if she believed any of it; she did, just because she wasn't stupid; Alec rolled his eyes, the universal sigh of oh sure you're not; Max kicked him in the shin, Alec muttered incoherently under his breath.

"_Bì zuǐ!"_ Lydecker and Bobby stopped arguing to look over at Zoë. Max and Alec blinked at her because they totally understood every word she said, and it was kind of amusing. Zoë took a deep breath, wincing at the pain but biting back any sort of sign. "Ain't nothing gettin' solved arguin', children. I ain't aware int he slightest what you all seem to find so interesting. But if I'm stuck with ya, I might as well put in my two cents. I've seen my share of unnatural and gruesome, got as much an open mind as the next person, but I ain't toleratin' any hiss fits while we try and understand what's fiction and what's less than so."

They stared at her, all four of them, for what felt like an eternity before Max shrugged. "I can deal."

"Ya, me too," said Alec quickly, bouncing to his feet and clapping his hands together. "I'm starving. Let's grab some grub."

"I saw a chicken place a mile or two back," piped Max, perking up and following Alec as he left the room. Lydecker let his eyes glance from Zoë to Bobby one last time before he turned on his heel and walked outside as well. He didn't follow the transgenics, but crossed the street to his truck. Bobby huffed and Zoë closed her eyes, wincing now that all eyes were not on her.

"I have a heavier painkiller in my truck," said Bobby in a low voice. "It'll help you sleep."

"Appreciate it."

Zoë was left alone with her pain, flashing back to the last moments she had with her ship and her crew. It was mostly exploding wires and screaming metal. She had been in the cockpit when the glass above her started to crack. It had gone black sometime after that. She didn't even know how long ago that had been.

* * *

Max drummed her fingers against the cracked plaster counter she was leaning across as Alec order from the short kid in a uniform that looked a size too big for him. One thing to get used to about this worm hole was the cheapness of everything. Max could totally get used to buying a pack of razors for five bucks instead of 22.

She stiffened suddenly, feeling eyes on her. A glance at the mirror behind the register told her that Lydecker was outside in the parking lot, leaning against his truck, staring at them with his arms folded over his chest. Max nudged Alec with her shoulder and straightened up, tugging her coat around her chest. Alec's eyes made the same path hers had and he tensed as well.

"He just doesn't give up," said Alec casually, grabbing the plastic sack full of food from the kid's outstretched hands and looked sideways at her. "What the hell does he want."

"I could only guess." Max turned away from him and walked outside without waiting to see if he was following. He did with an exasperated groan, reaching into the bag and pulling out a handful of popcorn chicken.

Max was already in her 'bitch pose' when he sauntered up to her, offering her some of his chicken, which she declined with a distasteful flick of her eyes. Alec shrugged and stuffed the rest of his food in his mouth, partly so he wouldn't have to talk to Deck and partly because it tasted delicious.

Lydecker didn't even bother rolling his eyes in disgust at 494's behavior, kept his eyes on Max, having a silent conversation with her most likely (if Alec could guess) in the form of a reprimand and a brush off.

"I'm not asking you kids to trust me."

"You can't ask us anything," snapped Max. "Don't presume we're doing anything more than tolerating you."

"You said you could help us," said Alec around his hand, fingernails picking chicken bits out of his teeth. He spat out a piece of something he really didn't want to think about and started rummaging around the bag for something new and different, his nose picking up the sent of gravy. "Why the fuck do you think we need it? This Bobby guy seems to know exactly what's going on _and_ I don't have the itching urge to rip his throat out with my bare hands." his eyes flickered back to Deck, and Alec stared at him darkly. Max tightened her arms across her chest slightly, which Alec noticed but Deck didn't. Max knew he was bluffing, Deck didn't, and the muscle in his jaw gave that away.

"Don't trust so easily," snapped Deck, matching Alec's gaze. "Trust is a weakness, and weakness, _any_ weakness, will get you killed-"

"Save us the speech, Deck, we aren't brainwashed kids anymore. Don't fuck with us," interrupted Max before Alec could open his mouth. "Tell us what you know, and maybe we wont tie you up and set you on the Committee's doorstep."

Deck flinched away from them, not because of their words, but because he was furious. They watched him run his hand across his mouth, catching against the scars across his chin. He turned his head towards them, staring, evaluating, finally he shook his head.

"Demons are real, kids," he said seriously. Alec scoffed, shaking his head, while Max just rolled her eyes. Deck's nostrils flared and he stepped closer to them, catching them off guard. "Demons are real and that man, the one you trust so easily, is one of them."

A light breeze could have knocked them over. The bag of food in Alec's hand slipped from his fingers, hitting the floor. The container of gravy exploded in the air, splattering over their boots. Deck continued, still staring down at them. "You think it's a coincidence that he showed up with information? He's not from our future. The Conclave is a secret cult, one that's been hidden for millennia. For those who've dared to look into them have gotten themselves killed. Or in my case, almost."

Suddenly it was like they were nine years old again, staring up at the Colonel, larger than life, in control of their futures and their expectations. He was their guide in a world that they didn't understand. Alec moved fluidly into attention, Max following shortly after.

"You've seen what demons are capable of," hissed Deck. The transgenics glanced at each other, because they were both thinking of the same incident, of black eyes ripping apart people with bare hands. Laughing into their souls and bleeding them dry. Deck smiled grimly, nodding in understanding.

"_You don't have a soul. How convenient, pretty little sack of meat."_

"What do we have to do, sir?" asked Alec his voice low.

"You have to kill him, before he kills all of us."

They looked at each other again, saying with their eyes that they should have just stayed in TC with their people, then they wouldn't be caught in this. Max nodded, settling her nerves and turning back to Lydecker. Her eyes were clear, the mission weighing solid on her face. She nodded once and blurred away, followed immediately by Alec. Lydecker was left standing alone in the parking lot, staring through the spot the transgenics had been. The corners of his mouth twisted, moving around to stare after them, the white of his eyes fading into liquid black.

Alec skidded to a stop just outside the motel door, Max standing next to him. She rejected the offer of his backup gun but took the lead, slamming the door open and marching in, Alec's gun pointed over her shoulder. Bobby turned around, frowning at their abrupt entrance.

"What the hell-"

"Shut up," snapped Max. "You've been leading us on a leash like we're green, like we don't know up from down. We want the truth. Straight up, Bobby, or whatever the hell you are."

Alec kept his gun trained, clicking the safety off. "Don't lie, we'll know. We don't like being played."

"Seems to be happening a lot these days," said Max with a thoughtful nod, her eyes narrowing.

Bobby sighed. "You kids are new to this game, so I'll tell you now that a gun isn't going to kill a demon. I'm not your enemy."

"We'll decide who our enemy is," snapped Max. "We're pretty good at it."

"I am _not_ a demon. And I can prove it."

Alec tightened his grip on his gun, his chest pressing into Max's shoulder. "Then show us."

Bobby straightened, moving one hand to his coat pocket slowly. Someone blinked, or maybe all of them blinked, like slow motion and Lydecker was standing behind Max and Alec, twisting the gun out of Alec's hand and pointing it at Bobby, pissed off and eyes narrowed.

"Never hesitate," he growled, and like slow motion, like someone blinked, Alec was reaching for Lydecker's wrist and his gun. Deck swung the gun on Alec, pulling the trigger. Alec's instincts clashed briefly with his brain and he hesitated, the bullet grazing his shoulder for what it was worth and Lydecker's arm weaving around his neck, pulling the transgenic into his chest.

"_Alec!_"

"_Cristo!_" Max's mouth dropped open, in horror and betrayal, watching as Lydecker's eyes flashed black, spinning to hiss at Bobby. His grip around Alec's throat tightened, but the sudden exposure, the burst of strength was quick to disappear and Alec used his own strength to throw Lydecker off of him and into the wall behind them. Max grabbed his arm, dragging him back, closer to her. They watched as Bobby stepped forward, pulling back the tore up carpet, revealing something spray painted into the concrete flooring.

"What-"

"Devil's Trap," interrupted Bobby gruffly, shaking a small book out of his jacket pocket. "Get inside and shut the door, damn it."

They did and moved to stand behind Bobby, staring over his shoulders at Donald Lydecker sprawled awkwardly on the floor, bent to the drawling of the Devil's Trap.

"He lied to us," said Alec. "Why do I feel so surprised?"

"Demon's lie, son," said Bobby. "This one's no exception."

Max was still holding onto Alec, his blood slipping against her fingers and running down the sleeve of her coat, sticking uncomfortably against her skin. Liquid black eyes seemed to focus on her, lips pulling across teeth. "You have such pretty eyes."

Max started forward with a jerk, baring her teeth, a low growl deep in her chest vibrating against her throat. Bobby held out an arm to stop her. "Demon's get inside you head-"

"No, that's Lydecker," hissed Max, her vision filming over with rage. Bobby leafed through wafer thin pages of his book so quickly that it caught her attention. She huffed and grabbed the book from his hands, scanning the words quickly, taking them in before she realized- "Latin?"

"It's an exorcism," said Bobby. "Recite the passage and the demon will be expelled."

"Trade one demon for another," muttered Max, her tongue catching between her teeth as she studied the exorcism. "Seems simple enough."

"Be my guest," said Bobby, inclining his head in an offer for Max to read the text. She pulled her eyes away from the book long enough to look over at Alec, staring at Lydecker with an unreadable expression, wishing not for the first time why Manticore couldn't hook her up with some mind reading trick.

She started the passage from memory alone, and immediately her hair was caught up in a gust of wind.

"We are inside, right?" asked Alec over the gale. Max continued on, shouting as the wind screamed, shaking the walls. Zoë was unconscious on the same bed they had found her in, oblivious to what was going on. She was almost finished when Lydecker's voice filtered through the wind.

"You're nothing but an animal, a chimera in the weakest sense. You pathetic excuse for a soldier- you can't even save me! Weak, pathetic, Renfro was right, you're poison, 452. How long before you get him killed?"

"Don't listen to him, Max," whispered Alec. The last part of the exorcism came out in a rush and with the final word Lydecker's head jerked backwards, his mouth snapping open, black smoke erupting into the air. Max watched it happen, how the muscles in Lyedecker's face smoothed out, that air of confidence and cockiness that the demon had vibrating through his hosts bones falling into Lydecker's posture like he was breathing. It was a different kind of arrogance and superiority. It was the kind that deserved it.

The book fell out of Max's fingertips, a few pages coming loose as the book hit the ground. She turned on her heel, retreating physically like she did. Alec watched her go, crossing the parking lot to her motorcycle and climbing on. She'd be looking for a tall building, some place she could think. A High Place. His attention snapped back to Lydecker when the older man spoke, his voice grainy and tired.

"Thank you, son."

Alec bristled, even half dead it sounded more like a pat on the head than genuine appreciation. Alec scoffed, his eyes narrowing in distain.

"You just can't leave us alone, can you, you son of a bitch," he growled. Bobby was staring grimly at him, his eyes hard and understanding, like he knew, like he could possibly understand. Alec jerked away, heading toward the door after Max. "Lock him up. We'll deal with him when Max and I get back."

Bobby nodded, turning to an semi unconscious Lydecker, his eyes half open as they followed Alec's form. "She's stronger than she looks, Alec."

Alec didn't even bother with a snappy comeback, just let the door slam behind him.

The place Max settled on really wasn't all that high. It was a good fifteen miles away from the motel, and it was the bell tower of a church. She made witty comments under her breath as she climbed the stairs, breaking the lock on the door and entering. The sun was starting to set…

"Now this is just wrong." Max didn't bother looking over her shoulder, she'd knew he'd be there, even if she didn't want him there. Alec had his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the doorframe, staring at her back. The sun was haloing her hair.

"Hey, girl's gotta think somewhere."

"You think they can follow us in here?" asked Alec. Max shrugged.

"With your luck? Defiantly."

Alec nodded, more out of something to do than actually agreeing. He cocked his head to the side, watching. "Max?"

"I know, Alec," interrupted Max softly. "But I can't help feeling like everyone I care about get's dead, one way or another."

"I'm not dead," commented Alec, pointing out the obvious and yes, thank you Alec, but sorry, only enough space in this itty bitty room for one brooding government experiment.

"Give the kid a gold star," said Max, not bothering to mention that she didn't really care about him. Except that she did. He was the only one she had. Worm hole apocalypse or not, she had a feeling that Alec would have been the only one she had in the end. "I found Ben in a church, haven't really been able to stomach them since."

The silent question in the air hung heavy. Demon's and hellfire, let the good times roll, but what about the good place? Max had a place in her head that swallowed her fears and spit them back out. The good place, the Blue Lady. So did angels exist too, or was the universe really just that screwy?

"You want me to go?" asked Alec. Max's eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun as it bounced off a telephone pole.

She didn't say yes. Alec started forward, his face grim and his eyes looking a little hollow and a little needy. His back pressed against her front lightly, staring down at her as she stared into the sun.

She didn't say no either, but she leaned into the pressure of Alec's fingertips as the slid down her spine. Her eyes were dark and hooded when her turned her head, looking at him around her hair.

"Being broken sucks." and Alec chuckled darkly at her words. "I don't even have memories of being whole."

"It's easier that way," said Alec, dipping his head low, breathing in her air, her scent. "Going through life with memories like that is very painful."

"Like anyone on this fucking planet isn't broken."

"Max-"

"I know, Alec," interrupted Max softly. She reached up, brushing her fingertips across his jaw, watching his eyes flutter close for a moment. "Shit ain't getting any better."

"I'm not Logan," said Alec, his eyes going hard. Amusement flitted through hers.

"Can't compare."

Alec closed his eyes tightly, his jaw clenching, his body tense. Max shifted her nose brushing against his, her body molding into his, the arm between them pinned against his chest and her collarbone. Kissing him was awkward and dry and chaste, but it was real. Kissing Alec was real. His body relaxed under her mouth, cracked, dry lips parting against each other, tongues sliding against liquid warmth, curling together.

The black blocked out the sun, the trees blocked out the moon. Slick skin slid together, mouths touching. It was soft gasps and bruising hands, digging deep into flesh. Skin covered bone slapping against each other. In the morning the brick marks in her back would be faded and he was going to smell like her for a long time. Max curled her body against his, still and cold on the church floor, moisture making rivers down her cheeks. Alec blinked away the voice in his head.

"_You're poison, 494. You're defective."_

"_Yes, sir."_

Bobby lead the way out of town the next morning, Zoë leaning against the truck door, breaking slowly, Max and Alec following on their motorcycles in silence.

They left Lydecker in the motel room, slumped against the rope binding him to a chair, the blood still dripping from his forehead, his brain matter sliding down the wall behind him.

_Or How to Bond Over The Misery Of Others, With Party Favors_

Inara.

The transgenic were too busy gathering supplies, Mal was staring down at the bloody woman on the ground and River was staring at him. Sam was staring at her.

"Is she alive?" asked Mal, sounding like he didn't want to know. River nodded and Mal's shoulders dropped, like a weight had been lifted. He moved to pick her up, swaying on his feet under her weight. The transgenic blood was working fast, but Mal was still broken. He closed his eyes briefly, steadying himself.

Sam tore his eyes away, looking around them at the small town. It didn't look big enough to have a gas station let alone a motel to get themselves together. River was still clutching the dress Aurora had given her, her bare feet coated in blood and dirt.

"We have to find a place to stay," said Sam finally, turning as Missy and Kane walked up to them, carrying grocery bags filled with guns and ammunition. "Where the hell did you get all that?"

"Sheriffs department," said Kane with a shrug. Sam stared and shook his head, ignoring it. Mal was frowning in concentration.

"Serenity shouldn't be too far off."

"We don't have time to look a fucking spaceship," snapped Sam. "Go to the station and wait there. They'll have medical supplies, water, decent shelter incase this," Sam gestured around them wildly. "Happens again. River and I can look for survivors."

"That's probably not the best idea, son," said Mal through gritted teeth. Sam sighed.

"It's better than wandering around in the middle of nowhere."

River nodded, accepting his logic and stepping into his side. She gave Mal a stern look. "Everything will work out, Captain."

"Sure as hell better," mumbled Mal. He took a step back to keep his balance, and it seemed that was what convinced him. Kane whistled at his companions, shouting at them to get back to the station, mumbling a word of caution to Sam before leading Mal in the right direction.

River stared out at the bodies lying on the ground, the silence echoing the slam of the department doors and finally they were alone. Sam couldn't help but notice all the blood.

"There are no survivors," breathed River. She lead the way into town, Sam following close behind.

It didn't look like a ghost town. Although, it wasn't one, not yet. It still had warmth, the buildings still seemed inviting and lived in. If the sidewalk hadn't been littered with bodies, it almost looked normal. River seemed to know where she was going, just because she knew. Sam was looking for some sort of motel, working off his knowledge of the thousands of cookie cutter towns he'd been in. There was a place for tourists, people just passing through, usually between a diner and a church.

It was called the Firefly Inn, and Sam couldn't help the nagging sensation in the back of his head, telling him it was fate or irony or coincidence. It was empty, just like the rest of the town. Sam figured the wind must have blown the spores through windows and cracks. The screaming would have brought most people outside, leaving the insides untouched.

Sam swiped a key from the front desk and lead the way upstairs. River lingered in the hallways, her fingers playing along the edges of picture frames and pressed flowers. Sam found the room that matched the key number and turned to watch her, nodding towards the door.

"You can change in here."

"You wont leave me, will you?" asked River, stopping in front of Sam, taking the key out of his hand and running her fingers over it.

"I can stay."

River nodded, fitting the key in the lock and pushing the door open. It swung out easily, the smell of lilacs and dryer sheets assaulting their senses. River moved in the direction of the bookshelf up against the wall, the tips of her fingers pressing against the spines, her mouth moving to the titles of the books. Sam nodded to the bathroom, knowing she couldn't see him.

"I'll see if there's still running water."

"It's early in the apocalypse," said River, pulling a book from the shelf and flipping it open. "Everything will work until they realize how pointless it all is."

Sam didn't respond, disappearing in the bathroom and testing the sink. All was well. Water pressure fucking sucked, but it was clean. Sam turned back toward the door, opening his mouth to let River know that she could get herself cleaned up, but stopped short. She was standing in the bathroom doorway, staring at him, fingers twisted around a pages of a book. The dress was lying on the floor near the bookshelf, and she was staring at him. Sam frowned, stepping forward, his eyes focused on the pages in her hands.

"River, what-?"

"I've never understood why a person would take the time to write out their thoughts," started River, separating a page from the other and turning it over. "Suspend a moment on paper. There's no real emotion in the text, not when it's taken out of context."

She dropped the page, watched it hit the floor. "My body hurts. Reasonable, seeing as I was recently in an automobile accident." her eyes glanced down at the pages. "This one's about a rabbit who see's blood wherever he goes." River crumpled up the rest of the paper in her hands, moving closer to Sam and the sink, dropping the balled up paper into the water. "You don't have to stay."

Sam nodded and walked out, closing the bathroom door behind him, crossed the room to the window and stared out into the streets, at the dusting of bodies. He could hear the water running through the closed door.

* * *

Mal had Inara lying out across an empty desk. One of the transgenics (the blonde one, Mal had never been properly introduced to the woman who's lap he'd woken up in) was wiping the blood off her skin, exposing the wounds underneath the dirt and layers of silk. Her mouth was twisted into a frown, blue eyes narrowed in concentration and concern. Mal was staring at her from his seat across the desk, a frown matching her own crossing his face.

"_Shén me shì tā?_"

"_Wǒ jié jìn quán lì wǒ néng de_, she's lost too much blood," Aurora shook her head, looking up at Mal, her eyes hard. "She'll need a transfusion."

"We don't have the right equipment for a transfusion," said Wesson, walking over to them, dropping a bag of rock salt to the ground, against the desk and an armful of stripped towels at Inara's feet. Aurora shot him a look, baring her teeth at him.

"I know that, pup." Wesson shrunk back, dipping his head slightly. Aurora shook her head, pushing her hair out of her face with her wrist. "It's just a matter of time."

"Time until what?" asked Mal, straightening up. Aurora blinked at him, her face stony.

"Until she's dead."

Mal swallowed back the unnamable emotion sinking into the pit of his heart. He had no energy left to worry for Inara, no energy left to pray for her. He folded his hands under his chin and leaned forward. Closing his eyes. He had no energy left to watch her die.

"Perhaps, I could be of service?" The cocking of guns and the scraping of boots against tile filled the room and Mal opened his at the familiar voice. He straightened.

"Simon?" the younger man, usually so well dressed and kept, looked like he'd been through a tornado. Which, given the circumstances, might have been accurate.

"Captain," said Simon with a nod. He kept his eyes on the weaponry, slowly moving further inside the station. Mal noticed his hesitation and placed his hand on Wesson's arm (just because he was closest and he didn't have to stand up).

"He's a friend," said Mal as explanation. "He's a doctor."

"Trauma surgeon, actually," said Simon offhandedly, feeling safe enough to cross the room in stride, his eyes on Inara. "She's lost a lot of blood."

"Hence the need for transfusion," snapped Aurora, stepping back from the desk and crossing her arms over her chest. "Do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Say stupid things that everyone's already figured out." Simon ignored the comment and set his bag on the desk, opening it.

"I have a transfusion kit, shouldn't be more than a moment to set it up. I just need a match-"

"One of us works," said Wesson, rolling up his sleeve. "We're universal donors."

"Fine," said Simon offhandedly, already working on hooking up Inara. It was quite for a few minutes, Aurora seemed less anxious, settling for slumping in a rolling chair and occupying herself with a dozen paperclips and pencil (Mal suspected she was making a bomb when she pulled out a piece of chewing gun, but refrained from saying anything). Wesson had Missy on a comm and mentioned casually that maybe she and Kane should stay where they were until Simon wasn't holding needles. Mal was staring at Simon.

"What happened to you, son?" asked Mal in a low voice, leaning closer to the desk and to Simon. Simon closed his eyes briefly, shaking himself mentally so he could work on Inara.

"I managed to stay on the ship after the crash. I don't know how, I don't know…I found Kaylee in the wreckage, or, what I could _find_ of Kaylee. Zoë and Jayne are dead as well and as for River…I haven't-"

"River's here," interrupted Mal. "She's safe, she's with us."

Something flickered in Simon's eyes and he looked hopeful. "Where is she?"

"With Sam. He'd been…Well, he's a friend." Simon glanced up at him.

"Do you understand any of this? What's happening." Mal shook his head, leaning back in his seat and running his palm over his forehead.

"Not a damn."

They lapsed into silence. Waiting for Inara to show signs of consciousness. Mal was feeling stronger, less like a beaten pulp. The smaller cuts and bruises he had were already starting to fade. Inara was starting to get the color back into her face when Aurora straightened sharply, standing fluidly and pulling a gun out of the waistband of her jeans. It was a good thirty seconds after she stood that River walked in, standing in her bare feet but looking clean and wearing clothes. Aurora lowered her gun, smiling at River and sitting down.

"Simon?" breathed River, creeping forward cautiously. Simon turned, looking relieved and River stopped.

"River."

River didn't see Simon, she saw through him. Black swirling in a shell that looked like her brother, but wasn't hers. She could taste the wrongness, feel the metallic tang crawling up her fingers, rusting her skin. Her chest constricted and tears swam in her eyes, blurring her vision.

"Not Simon," breathed River, moving back the way she'd come. Simon's eyes frowned at her.

"River, what's wrong? It's Simon, it's your brother."

Sounds like Simon, looks like Simon, if River turned her head just so the hologram would settle together and it would be Simon's concerned face staring at her. But if she sifted in any sort of way the layers would shift and the black would filter out, filling her brother's shell like gas, pushing at the seams. Simon's breath whooshed out of his throat in a sigh, his eyes turning downwards and his body turning back towards Mal.

"I really look awful, don't I?"

"I wasn't gonna say anything." Simon's eyes rolled, and River watched him, flinching at his movements as he asked Wesson if he would be alright without him and turned, walking toward the exit. As he passed by River he slowed as she opened her mouth, whispering.

"_Christo._"

The black flinched, pressing against the shell, hissing at her, clawing it's way up into the white of Simon's eyes. River stayed stock still, staring ahead as Simon's mouth twisted into a smirk, walking away and leaving her needing…needing Sam.

"You alright, little one?" asked Mal, walking around the desk and across the station, placing his hands on her shoulders when he was close enough. River stared up at him, her eyes wide.

"_Where's Sam?_"

* * *

Time was moving too slowly, he could tell, because it took him too long to open his eyes, to realize he was tied to a chair and that the feeling in his hands was going. He could see through it, though, through time. Sam's tongue pressed against a piece of clothe in his mouth, tied around the back of his head, making things hurt. He watched as time slowed down the drops of blood falling from his mouth to the ground, mixing in dust and saliva.

There was no bodily jerk to regain lucidity, no amount of blinking would snap him out of his stupor and move his ass into action. He stayed tied to the chair, swaying on spot until a hand clapped his shoulder, forcing him backwards against the chair. A strong hand on his jaw jerked his head downward so he could see properly. Blue eyes glinted in his vision, a face that looked familiar.

"There we go," said Simon as realization set into Sam. "No introduction's needed."

"You're a demon," said Sam thickly, Simon chuckled at him. "Simon's dead, isn't he."

"Never had a chance," said the demon, blinking black eyes at him briefly. "Of course, I immediately found the potential in him. A doctor with medical equipment and drugs. Like the one I gave you shortly after I knocked you unconscious. I don't know what it's called, but it has an intriguing effect."

"What do you want."

"I want you to die." Sam snorted and Simon gave him a sympathetic look, letting his jaw go and patting his cheek. "I know who you are, you probably get death threats a lot."

"You should listen to my answering machine sometime." Simon smirked.

"Let's talk about River."

"Let's not."

"She's the reason you're here, isn't she?" continued Simon, ignoring Sam's interruption. "She's the reason you're risking your life. Although, you are a sucker for needy girls, even if she hadn't been invading your dreams, you'd probably end up with her."

"How do you know about that?" asked Sam, his eyes narrowing warily. Simon rolled his eyes, something Sam had a feeling the real Simon probably didn't know how to do very well. Simon tapped his temple, cocking his head sharply to the side.

"Demon," he said simply. "I know all about it. Every dream, every fantasy you've had about her. I've got to say, may favorites are the ones where you fuck her in the Impala-"

"Shut up," growled Sam, Simon ignored him once again.

"It's amusing how rough you are during sex, I always pegged Dean for the biter-"

"I told you to shut up!" roared Sam, straightening up in his bindings. Simon shuttered, curling into himself. Something black and smoky fell out of his mouth, gagged him for a moment before it slid back inside the shell and Simon straightened up, looking at Sam with a tilt of his head and an intrigued shine to liquid black eyes.

"That's interesting," said Simon. He lifted a hand to his face, whipping saliva off the corner of his mouth. "I think I like it."

Simon stood up and turned away from him, bracing his hands against a table a few feet away. "I wonder what River would say, I wonder if she knows."

"She'll know you're a demon," said Sam, suddenly exhausted, breathing hard. "If she see's you, she'll know-"

"How do you know I haven't already killer her?" asked Simon. "You have no idea how long you were unconscious. I could have already had my way with her, Malcolm and those fucking things that my people can't even touch."

"You can't posses a transgenic?" asked Sam, frowning. "That's not…how?"

Simon rolled his eyes. "How the fuck am I supposed to know? I didn't make them." He turned sharply, facing Sam with an expression Sam couldn't read. "You so took the wrong thing out of that monologue, by the way. I'm talking about how I raped and murdered your girlfriend and you're concentrating on the part about the things that have badger DNA."

Sam's eyes narrowed as Simon turned back to the table, reaching across it for a bag and dragging it closer to him. "You haven't touched her."

"Maybe not," muttered Simon, fumbling inside the bag for something Sam couldn't see. "But I will."

"You son of a bitch, that's his sister," said Sam, jerking hard against his binds, it was useless and he only did it once. Simon shrugged, his back to Sam, pulling a scalpel out of his bag and twirling it around his fingers deftly. The light caught the blade and Sam flinched from the glint.

He turned back around, bracing one hand against Sam's forearm and sliding the instrument across the side of his face. "You shouldn't believe that I'm any good with this, Sam," said Simon, dropping the scalpel to his chest and digging the blade under his collarbone. "It's going to fucking hurt."

The drug dulled most of the pain, which Sam was thankful for, but it only meant that Simon was trying harder to make him scream. He didn't realize when he started, only that when he stopped, he and Simon were no longer the only people in the room. Simon had stopped his carving and was staring somewhere to Sam's right.

"Simon?"

"It's not Simon!" shouted Sam, turning his head in the direction of Mal's voice and the sound of a gun being armed. Through blurred vision he saw River move away from Mal's side. Simon didn't seem to care.

Missy had a gun on Simon as well, having come in behind Mal and River. Simon smirked, a breeze catching his hair. Sam swore through gritted teeth and Missy flew backwards, hitting the ground with a crack. The next sound was the sharp hiss of Mal's gun as it fired, hitting Simon square in the chest.

Someone must have blinked, or maybe all of them blinked, like slow motion and Simon was gone. Missy was already on her feet, whirling around on the spot Simon had been standing in.

"What the hell-?"

"He's gone," said Sam thickly, leaning against River as she fumbled with the ties against his wrists. "Demon's can do that."

"That is so not kosher," grumbled Missy, kicking at the scalpel covered in Sam's blood so it skidded across the room. Sam watched it until it blended into the ground, then turned back into River, closing his eyes as she ran her fingers soothingly across one of his wrists.

"He hurt you," said River in a small voice, her mouth pressed against his hair. Sam's breath caught against the shock of her skin against his, opened his eyes to watch as black raised against his skin. "Drank you in until you were a part of him. My brother wouldn't do that."

"That wasn't Simon, River," mumbled Sam against the fabric of River's dress. He could feel her heartbeat beneath it, under her skin, it burned his skin and caught his breath. "Simon wasn't in there."

River's eyes filled with tears, spilling over and down her cheeks, catching in Sam's hair.

"I'm sorry."

Jo had a piece of her hair twirling around her fingers, leaning back against a wall, smirking black eyes and liquid sarcasm as she stared at the man with the gun pointed at her head. She rolled her head back, her hips shifting in her jeans.

"You know that wont work on me, right?" she bared her teeth at him in a wicked smile, hooking her thumbs inside the waistband of her pants. "C'mon, White, put the gun down. We're only here to talk."

"Don't fuck with me, demon," the gun didn't waver, Jo had to give him props 'cause they'd been here for about a half hour in the same position waitin' on her boo. Ames White wasn't very patient, but at least he wasn't soft.

Jo scoffed at the 'demon' bit, glancing away. "Fine."

"Where the hell is he?"

"Planting seeds of doubt," said Jo with a shrug. "Kissing babes, rape and murder maybe, all in a days work for us-"

"You're testing my patience-"

"And you're seriously grating mine," snapped Jo, pushing herself away from the wall and stalking towards White. He fired his gun twice, hitting her in the chest. She stopped, closing her eyes and turning her head away slightly. Her lips pursed in annoyance, black eyes snapping onto White. "That kinda stung."

White's arm raised just that much more and Jo's mouth twisted into a snarl, daring him to shot again when they were interrupted by a chuckle. White spun around, and Jo just kind of perked up.

"Who the hell are you?" snarled White. Blue eyes rolled, swirling black in the process. It was an amusing trick, White would give him that. Jo plastered herself against him, her face pressing against his neck, grinning.

"Does Simon work for you?" he offered flippantly, wrapping an arm around Jo's waist and lifting her against him. "Ames White?"

"He shot me," pouted Jo, wrapping her arms around Simon's neck and pressing her mouth against his ear. "I liked this shirt too."

"Look," snapped White. "That bitch brought me here for one reason. Compromise." Simon snorted.

"You have nothing to offer us, White," said Simon, setting Jo back on the ground. "We're the superior race here, not you. We're calling the shots."

"And who exactly do you speak for?"

"We don't need to speak for anyone, fact is there's more of us then there are of you. You're kind of our bitches at this point, so you better stop talking like you're better than us."

"I am better than you," growled White. "You're nothing but scum."

Jo pulled away from Simon, both their faces serious and stony. Without warning, White was thrown backwards across the room, hitting the opposite wall hard. Simon had his hand wrapped around his neck, pressing himself against White's body, cutting off his breathing. They snarled at each other, Simon's eyes liquid black.

"You need us more that we need you," hissed Simon. "You're nothing but an egotistical animal, pretending that your inbreeding has made you a superior human when the reality is it's swallowed your IQ points, lowered your social skills and caused mommy and daddy to scrape the slime off the bottom of the gene pool to make you look even remotely human. Seriously, you look like a bunch of hairy muscles heads walking around pounding your chests."

"You're point?" wheezed White, grabbing Simon's wrist and forcing him to let go.

"Don't be stupid," snapped Jo. "You know what the point is."

"You think that by possessing us, you can do our dirty work?"

"We'll let you enjoy the hell out of it too," said Simon, quirking his eyebrows. "Not like you have souls anyways. Pesky things have been bred out of you centuries ago."

"It's why we like you so much."

White huffed, looking away from them with a small shake of his head. He thought about it, wasn't like he cared about what happened as long as the transgenic filth was eliminated. Simon and Jo stared at him expectantly for a minute before Jo got bored and started picking at the bullet holes in her chest, digging her fingers into the wound to try and catch the lead and pull it out. White opened his mouth to make a condition when a series of windows exploded.

Slightly caught off guard, White, Simon and Jo started. Blades came first, hooking around the window frames, covered in blood and pieces of skin, followed by similar looking things, baring teeth and screams. Jo rolled her eyes, groaning.

"Reavers." a vein in White's temple throbbed.

"I hate those fucking things."

_Or How to Seriously Confuse Dangerous People With Big Guns_

"You sure this is the place?" asked Dean over the screaming and gun fire. Bela gave him a look as a Reaver was flung out one of the broken windows, impaling himself on a rusted spigot near where they were standing. They stared at it, watching him struggle for a moment before dying. Mole's eyebrow raised.

"I'd say this is the spot."

"Why the hell would a bunch of Reavers attack a demon?" asked Jayne, Vera already armed in his hands and pointed at the building in front of them.

"They're a challenge," said Bela with a shrug. "The spirits haven't exactly got an answer for everything, and I got the feeling you didn't want me to chat."

The four fell into silence, watching the building, listening to screams, continuous gunfire and the sounds of bodies hitting walls. Jayne shifted on his feet uneasily.

"So are we just gonna stand here?"

"That's the plan," said Mole around his cigar, pulling it out of his mouth and looking over at Jayne. "If you want to go in though, be my guest."

"_Cào nín hé nín de mǔ qīn,_" muttered Jayne, earning a chuckled from Mole.

"What have I told you two about the freakin' Chinese?" snapped Dean. "The guns I can handle, but the-"

Dean was cut off by another Reaver flying out of the window. It nearly plowed into Mole mid-air, and Jayne shot it before anyone else had any time to react. Mole shoved the corpse off himself, glaring up at Jayne as he got to his feet.

"That's it, I'm tired of waitin' around for these things to die," snapped Mole, heading for the building, Dean on his heels. Jayne remained stubbornly where he was, muttering something about picking off anything trying to escape. Bela rolled her eyes and followed Dean and Mole.

She froze the minute she walked in, partly because if she didn't she'd run straight into Dean, partly because he was staring at the same person she saw. "Oh, bullocks."

"Jo?"

The blonde had blood splattered across her face, clothes and hair, and as she whirled around at the sound of her name, her eyes were pools of black. Bela swore again.

"Christ, I thought I took care of that."

"Jo's a demon," said Dean dryly. "Perfect."

Mole was picking off the remaining Reavers, seemed to be enjoying the hell out of it too. Jo pushed blood soaked hair out of her face, turning to the man standing next to her, equally bloodied. He smirked at them.

"Wow, this would be a really good time to have the Colt," said Dean, giving Bela a pointed look to which she ignored.

"Get over it, sweetie. You're not the only person in the world fighting demons."

Someone must have blinked, or maybe all of them blinked, like slow motion and the demons were gone, left in the bodies of innocent, good people. That only left one.

"Ames White," said Bela, smirking at him as Mole backed him into a wall, shotgun at his head. "I know your father."

"Get this animal off of me," asked White calmly, looking past Mole like he wasn't even there. No one moved, White took the time to look at one face to the next, settling on Dean, barking out a laugh.

"494," spat White, his lips curling into a snarl. Dean gave him a twisted look.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Mole shoved him aside, sticking his shotgun underneath White's chin, digging into his flesh.

"You really need to keep your mouth shut," growled Mole, his eyes narrowing. White smirked.

"So this is who my father used. I always wondered what kind of man you would be."

"What the hell is he talking about?" asked Bela, looking sideways at Mole. He huffed, jerking the shotgun away from White.

"X5-494, transgenic," said Mole, unable to look at Dean. "One of the fearless leaders of our little nation. I mistook you for him when we first met. We call him Alec."

Dean blinked at the side of Mole's face stupidly for a minute before whirling on White and exploding. "_THE GOVERNMENT FUCKING __**CLONED**__ ME?_"

"Twice, at least," said Mole with a shrug. "I know 493's dead, ended up a serial killer," he snorted, glancing at Dean and giving him a once over. "Now I know why."

"Why would they clone me?" muttered Dean, not paying attention to Mole's statement/insult. "How the hell did they get my DNA in the first place?"

"It's the government, they have ways," said Bela with a shrug. Dean spun around to glare at her shoving his finger under her nose.

"Did you have something to do with this?"

"Please, Dean, don't be an idiot-"

"Hey, everything dead in here 'posed to be dead?" Dean and Bela turned towards the door, Jayne half hiding behind the door, his gun pointed into the room. Dean rolled his eyes and beckoned him in with one hand, turning back to White as he did.

"The green thing took care of it," said Bela, shaking her head.

"And the demons?"

"Jo and the other one are gone," said Bela tersely. "It's just this one, now."

"What do you want?" asked White. "I have better things to do that play tea party."

"Consorting with demons perhaps?" suggested Bela, tapping Mole on the shoulder to get him to move aside. He did so with a glare and White straightened up, staring down his nose at Bela. "Has the Conclave really sunk so low?"

"You know about the Conclave?"

"I've manage to learn a lot about a great deal of things in my lifetime," said Bela. "The Conclave is one of many. I have to say, it is one of the most disturbing cult's I've stumbled across, but I didn't think you made deals with demons. You're not smart enough."

"They came to us."

"Because they _are_ smart enough, you idiot," sneered Bela, she recoiled as White backhanded her, sending her to the ground.

With one smooth movement Jayne pulled out a long serrated knife, crossed the remaining space between him and White and forced the blade through his shoulder and into the wall behind him, pinning him to it. White looked wildly from the knife to Jayne.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you know how much this suit cost?"

"Freaks don't feel pain," grumbled Mole around a cigar, glancing down at Bela as she picked herself off the ground, wiping blood away from the corner of her mouth.

Bela moved around Jayne, gripping the knife handle and twisting hard as an example. "You're gonna have to try harder."

Dean watched silently, his mid still on the whole clone thing. He didn't even know what they were doing, bothering with this guy except that Bela said the spirits told her he had something to do with the rift. He trusted her like he trusted Mexican food with Sam. Messy shit went down whenever she was around, and he didn't think for a second that she was doing this out of the goodness of her heart. She wanted something from this White guy, badly, badly enough to risk her life in motel rooms and cramped car rides. His thoughts drifted back to that 494 person White had mentioned, Alec, Mole had said, transgenic leader.

"What exactly are we looking for?" asked Dean suddenly, interrupting Jayne's bloodfest and saving White's ear by seconds. Dean glanced from Bela to Mole, crossing his arms over his chest, his nostrils flaring a bit. "Does this Alec guy know anything? You said he was one of your leaders."

"Don't flatter yourself, he's probably dead," snapped Mole. "He and Max left to destroy their facilities days ago and since they haven't bothered to keep in contact, we assumed they were dead."

"452 is the one who's been blowing up our schools?" White snorted, looking away. "Of course she is, that bitch."

"So she's alive?" asked Mole with a nod. "Alec too, if Max has anything to say about it."

"Not for long," said White, grinning, his teeth coated in blood. "We've dealt with the devil. They should be killing each other right about now, then everything can go back to the way it's supposed to be."

"Alec and Max dying are what closes the rift?" asked Mole, snorting. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"They're a part of it," snapped White, spitting out a mouthful of blood and spit at the ground, narrowly missing Jayne's boots. "There's a ritual, something about psychics who know about the binding magic. River Tam and something Winchester-"

"Damn it Sam," growled Dean at just about the same time Jayne perked up with, "River's alive?" White chuckled.

"Better find them if you want to close the rift quickly."

"Why?" asked Bela sharply. "Obviously we don't want people like you hanging around any longer that you absolutely have to, but I've been hearing anxiety from the spirits I've spoken to."

"The end of the world is just the start," said White, rolling his eyes. "The demons said something about it being a party favor compared to what'll happen if the rift remains open."

"We need to find Max," grunted Mole. "Her Majesty is gonna need to know this if she's going to continue making things up as she goes along."

"How do we get in touch with her?" asked Dean.

"Logan Cale," grunted Mole, quirking eyebrow (or whatever it was he had in place of one) as he caught Bela smirk. "I suppose you know him too?"

"He's a frivolous spender, or at least the one I know is. Teenagers, you understand."

"He ain't a teenager anymore," chuckled Mole. He nodded at White. "Can we leave this here to bleed to death?"

"Fine with me," muttered Dean, turning to go, followed closely by Mole and Bela. Jayne was last, ripping his knife out of White's shoulder.

"I have a question." White glanced down to expect the damage done to his suit. He raised his eyebrows in a noncommittal way. "River Tam. Who told you about her."

White looked up with a sharp frown. "Demon named Simon. Didn't really catch a last name."

"Simon," repeated Jayne. He shook his head once and with a strangled grunt slammed his head against White's. White's head recoiled, hitting the wall behind him with a crack and crumpling to the ground, unconscious. Jayne stared down at him, rubbing the tension out of his forehead with two fingers. "Pity."

* * *

They were already in Washington, and Mole had the memory of…well, of a genetically engineered killing machine. He made getting to Seattle and in turn to this Logan guy's place fairly smooth. Turned out Seattle was a transgenic hotspot, every freaking street they turned on was a seemingly homeless person jumping from one building to another, conning people on the side of the road out of their cash. One or two of them looked like they were having conversations with squirrels so Dean thought they really might have been homeless. It was Seattle, and apocalypse or not, it was raining.

For a frivolous spender as Bela claimed, Logan Cale lived in a crap hole. Dean was wary of leaving his car on a street like this, protested angrily as Bela's smirk moved him out of the car and towards the front door. He glanced back, suddenly realizing how odd they must look, three full grown adults and an overgrown science project standing outside a beaten down house. With guns.

Dean chuckled airily, rapping his knuckles against the wood and waiting for an answer.

A scruffy looked man, maybe thirty, peered at them, opening his mouth to tell them off and then freezing, his eyes widening behind glasses as he spotted Dean standing next to Mole.

"Al-?"

"I swear to god, if you call me 'Alec' I will punch you in the face," snapped Dean, shoving past Logan to get into the house and out of the rain. Logan held up his hand as an apology, but frowned at him anyways holding the door open for the rest of them.

"This is wrong."

"How do you think I feel?" asked Dean wildly, throwing his hands in the air. "I've been violated by the government."

"Logan needs more bacon," the group turned (as if his life couldn't get any weirder) as a dog person romped (yes, romped) out of the kitchen, skidding across the wood floor, startled by the new people in the house. Mole clapped him on the shoulder, walking past him and into the living room, falling into an E-Z Boy and ignoring his companions.

The dog thing cocked his head at Dean, creeping closer to him. "Mole brought home Medium Fella?"

"I'm not kidding about the hitting-" Dean was interrupted as Joshua spun him around, pulling down the back of his jacket collar.

"It's a dogman," said Bela turning to Logan, as Joshua proceeded to sniff Dean, much to his chagrin. "I presume he's house trained?"

"No cat in your cocktail," woofed Joshua, he patted Dean's head, smiling down at him. "Not Alec."

"Yeah, Josh, we know," said Logan. "This is…ah?"

"Dean. Winchester," said Dean, batting away Joshua's hand.

Logan nodded. "Right, Dean. Manticore used his DNA to clone Alec."

Joshua nodded seriously. "Dean special too."

"Not that special," muttered Dean, leaning away from Joshua as his leaned in to examine his profile. Logan pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and turned back to the other two, frowning at Bela.

"You look familiar."

"I sold you Statue of Bast. French, 1920s."

"Bela, yes," said Logan, brightening. "That was twelve years ago."

"More like seven months," corrected Bela. "You have noticed this isn't the same Seattle."

"I've been working on it," said Logan with a nod, turning to his living room, not waiting to see if they were following him. He sat down at a desk, behind a dozen computer monitors, a few of them bran new, a couple old enough to proceed Dean. "There was a rift in the space-"

"We know all about it, Willow," interrupted Dean, not really expecting anyone to get the Buffy reference. "Kind of don't care at the moment."

"We're looking for Max and Alec," finished Mole, his eyes closed in the recliner. Logan frowned at him.

"You haven't heard from them?"

"I've been busy."

"Who's running TC?"

"At the moment, most of the residents of our humble nation don't technically exist yet, or they're too brainwashed and smallish to comprehend the situation," said Mole offhandedly. He shrugged. "Dix probably has it under control."

"So" began Logan slowly, looking away from Mole and back to Bela and Dean. Jayne and Joshua were to busy staring each other down to care what he was saying, and honestly they probably wouldn't care anyways. "You need me to find Max?"

"Relatively soon," admitted Bela. "We need their help to close the rift."

"Give me an hour."

Turns out it was less than an hour, faster internet connection and all that. Probably helped that right after Logan put down the phone with the location of their last known whereabouts that Dean rolled his eyes and called Bobby.

"_Hello?"_

"Please tell me you have a kid with you who bears an uncanny resemblance to me."

"_If it's possible he's more annoying than you,"_ grunted Bobby. _"I'm so glad your of average intelligence."_

"Yeah, yeah, is that Max chick with him?"

"_I got 'em both. Don't have Lydecker anymore, you're clone shot him in the head."_

"My clone shot _who_ in the head?" cried Dean, earning looks from Bela and Jayne. Logan rolled his eyes.

"_Colonel Lydecker."_

Alec pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment, looking at Mole. "You know someone named Lydecker?"

"Alec killed Donald Lydecker?" asked Logan seriously. Mole snorted.

"Good for him."

"_He was possessed by a demon, Dean. Have you heard from Sam?"_

"No, I haven't heard from Sam. That little bitch ditched his phone somewhere in California. Apparently he's with-"

"_River Tam. I know. I have a woman with us who knows her, Zoë, says Sam found her a few days ago."_

"Well aren't we just all connected," growled Dean. "How fast can you get to Seattle?"

"_We're right outside Oregon,"_ said Bobby. _"Transgenic idgits are on motorcycles and Zoë's barely breathing. Give us a day."_

"We're are so going to pow-wow when you get here," said Dean, running a hand through his hair. "See you soon, Bobby."

"_Dean."_

Dean snapped his phone shut and took a moment to collect his thoughts. What he would have given to go back in time and just call Bobby in the first place. Logan straightened in his chair, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"They on their way?"

"Yeah," nodded Dean. "It's about to get really weird up in here."

* * *

If he felt pain he might have been unconscious for a longer period of time. But, because he didn't, he was just annoyed. White swore under his breath as he climbed to his feet, dusting off his suit and wiping blood off his face. He turned and sighed, rolling his eyes.

"What do you two want?"

Jo and Simon each fell into easy smirks, Simon spoke, his arm sliding over Jo's shoulders, his fingers tangling through her hair.

"A trade."

"For what?" spat White, pulling out his cellphone to see if he had reception. He need to contact the Conclave, to inform the Head Priestess of the demon situation.

"You tell us where Sandeman is and we'll kill him for you," said Jo simply. White looked at them under his eyebrows, closing his phone slowly.

"Deal."

* * *

Chinese Translations:

fèn kǒng - shit hole  
bì zuǐ - shut up  
shén me shì tā - what is it  
o jié jìn quán lì wo néng de - I'm doing the best I can  
cào nín nín de mǔ qīn - fuck you and your mother


	4. Part III

**Part III. the end**

_Or How To Feel Violated By The Government_

Original Cindy felt all kinds of bad vibes from this situation. For one, she was still in her damn bathrobe, for another, the old guy in the grey trench coat that'd bust into her crib had a familiar vibe to 'im. Something about him felt like he kicked ass professionally and had it written on a business card. Dude was makin' coffee on her stove without even introducin' himself, and that was just bad manners.

"Who'd you say you were again?" asked OC, folding her arms across her chest and tipping her head to the side. Frumpy, ass-kicker looked up at her briefly.

"I didn't," he said simply, and hell no, she had _so_ heard that kind of tone before.

"You're Manticore, aren't you?" asked OC, rolling her eyes. "Max ain't here at the moment, try Terminal City."

"Max isn't in Seattle," he sighed, running his hand over his face, ignoring OC's look of surprise. "I came here looking for her, but she's not here. Neither is Alec."

"Who the hell are you?" asked OC softly. "I've seen my fair share of the transgenic population and you don't seem like you'd match up to their standards."

"You'd be surprised," he said, just as softly. He glanced up at OC from under his eyebrows. "My name is Sandeman."

"_Damn_," muttered OC, her arms falling to her side. "And you're lookin' for Max? Why?"

"She and Alec are important to fixing this…happening," explained Sandeman. "Since the exposure of the transgenics it's become increasingly more difficult to keep track of those two."

"Hold up," snapped OC, bracing her hands against the island separating her from the kitchen. "Aren't you the one who created Manticore in the first place?"

"Yes," said Sandeman with a shrug. "I started it to create a superior human. One who would one day be able to destroy the Conclave and save humanity."

"So why are you here. In my apartment. Makin' coffee."

"Saving your life," said Sandeman offhandedly, checking the water temperature. "Give it a minute."

OC blinked at him. "Say again?"

She blinked again, she must have because there was no way that, that blonde girl standing behind Sandeman had been there a second ago. She didn't even have time to open her mouth, let alone say something before she was grabbed from behind and slammed against the floor and then everything started sounding far away.

"Sandeman."

"How did you find me?" he turned to the blonde behind him, gave her a once over and smirked. "Ames. He used to be such a good boy too. What did you have to bribe him with to get this close to me?"

"We told him we'd kill you." Sandeman was quiet for a moment, his lips pursed together uncomfortably.

"That would do it," he muttered. He moved his fist up to his mouth and cleared this throat. "He knows it's a lie, but Ames always was fond of fantasies." With one swift movement, Sandeman reached into the pocket of his coat and withdrew a gun, aiming and firing at a spot right above Original Cindy. The heavy drop of a body shook the ground and the blonde behind Sandeman started, eyes wide, making towards OC and the body behind her.

"Stop!" shouted Sandeman, reloading his gun and aiming it on the girl. "Please word your answer in the form of a question."

"You knew we were coming."

"That was more of a statement, but I'm a nice guy," said Sandeman, making no move to lower his gun. OC frowned at it, from her spot on the ground, it didn't look like any gun she'd ever seen. "I was looking for something along the lines of: 'What can I do for you, that wont get me shot in the head?'"

"What do you want?" hissed Jo, her eyes going black. She moved closer to Sandeman, the barrel of the gun pressing against her chest.

"You know who I want, bring them to me."

"The transgenics?" asked Jo with a pretty frown, tilting her head slightly.

"I guess I killed the smarter demon. No, I'm talking about the other two. The special ones."

"The Messiah," muttered Jo. She shook her head. "It wasn't my job to find them, it was his," she pointed at the body behind Original Cindy and Sandeman's eyes followed. They both ignored her.

Sandeman lowered his arm and gave Jo a look. "Find them, bring them here, and maybe you'll get a chance to kill me. Just like you promised."

Jo said something that OC couldn't hear, and she tried her hardest not to blink, but Sandeman did, and Jo was gone. Without smoke or a snap. She was just gone.

"How the hell did she do that?" asked OC, pushing herself into a sitting position. Sandeman didn't answer, he was staring at the spot where Jo had been a moment ago, like he couldn't move. OC shook her head, figured she didn't want to know and straightened her robe around herself before she stood. She glanced at the body on her living room floor, nice lookin' dude, 'cept for the hole straight through his forehead. The flesh around the hole was seared, like the gun had a charge to it. OC looked back at Sandeman, at the gun he was still holding in his hand.

"So who's this Messiah?" asked OC. "Someone I should change for?"

"Sam wont mind," said Sandeman. "He's just a vessel."

"Vessel for what?" Sandeman closed his eyes and shook his head once, slipping the gun back into his coat.

"It's better not to know," he said quietly. "They'll be here soon. In the mean time, would you like some coffee?"

* * *

River was curled against Sam's body, listening the hitch in his breath and feeling the skip of her heart whenever their skin would brush. He was thinking it had something to do with the time travel, how she wasn't supposed to be here, how he wasn't supposed to know she was ever going to exist. River closed her eyes to his thoughts and slid her hand under his shirt, cutting off his thoughts with her skin, killing him slowly and sweetly with each brush of her fingertips.

"God that hurts," muttered Sam, arching against the pain as it flooded down his spine. He twisted his body and grabbed River's wrists pinning her against the back of the couch, hovering over her. His palms burned under her skin, she'd have bruises across her wrists, but they were so close it didn't feel like it mattered. He was so close, if he just tilted his head he could kiss her-

"Get off the girl, Winchester," snapped Mal, walking into the Sheriff's office. "Wesson and Aurora are back. They found Serenity."

"And Inara?" asked Sam, getting up from the couch, clenching and unclenching his hands to get rid of some of the pain in his palms. River was looking at the striped bruises across her wrists, but glanced up when Inara was mentioned. Mal nodded and turned back to the door.

"She's awake. Transgenic blood does wonders for the body."

"When do we leave?" asked Sam, following Mal out into the bullpen. Inara was sitting on the edge of a desk, braiding her hair over her shoulder. She smiled at him when he caught her eye.

"Hello, Sam."

"As soon as Missy gets that thing working we can leave…" Mal trailed off as River skidded to a stop next to Sam, twisting her fingers into the hem of his shirt, staring past them to the entrance of the building.

"Actually, you're leaving now." Sam and Inara looked up, Mal spun around wildly, pulling out his gun only to have it wrenched out of his hand by an invisible force and smashed into the wall on the other side of the station.

Sam sucked in a breath, taking a step forward. "Jo?" any other efforts to get closer where thwarted by River, who jerked him back to her with a hiss.

"The dark crept into her," whispered River. There was a moment of silence where River and Jo stared at each other, tension thick in the air before River exhaled sharply, closing her eyes and turning her face into the crook of Sam's neck. "She knew Simon."

"Not personally," snapped Jo. Her eyes flickered around the station. "No devil traps? What are you, stupid?"

"What did you do with Simon?"

"You're Simon wasn't here in the first place," snapped Jo, her eyes rimmed red. She stalked further into the station and folded her arms across her chest. "Let's go. You're presence is requested by the wizard, so if you'll just follow me…"

"We're not going anywhere," said Sam stubbornly. Jo's nostrils flared and she smirked, forced and sugar sweet.

"That's cute," she said with a small nod. "If you like dying by proximity to your girlfriend then that's none of my business, but the rest of us would like to remain in this dimension. I will teleport your ass there if I have too."

Mal held up his hand to stop Sam from saying anything. "Where?"

"Seattle. Doctor Sandeman would like a word."

Sam raised an eyebrow, looking at Mal in what Dean would describe as his 'bitch face'. Mal knew what he was thinking, however, he had no idea what this rift was going to do in a long term capacity. But he wasn't a captain here, he wasn't giving any orders.

"It's just a word, son," said Mal quietly. "Not too far off if your map has anything to say about it."

It took a minute but Sam finally nodded, glancing down at River, still breathing into his shirt. His chin brushed against the top of her head, his hand along her spine. "We'll wait until the other get back and then we can-"

"We're leaving the freaks," interrupted Jo. "Sandeman doesn't want his _children_ interfering with his well laid plans."

"Don't say anything," whispered River. "She's upset in a very human way. We should go before she decides we're not worth it. Kills us where we stand."

"Fine," huffed Sam, looking up at Jo, his face set. "Let's go."

* * *

The ride was short, whether Jo had something to do with it or not, but one moment they were driving through clear roads and the next they were _defiantly _in Seattle, rain pouring down in sheets. Every time the car hit a pothole Mal would grip the chair so tightly Sam thought he might tear through it, and Inara was getting paler with every sharp corner they took.

Jo was standing outside of an apartment complex when Sam pulled up, practically spat the apartment number and was gone. The walk up to the apartment was eerie, in the sense that most of it was in pretty good condition, but out of the corner of their eyes they could tell something was off, broken, empty.

A fierce looking black woman with highlights opened the door for them when Sam knocked. She glanced at him and hmm'd stepping away from the threshold and letting them in. Sam noticed her eyes linger a little too long on Inara before she shut the door and leaned back against it, arms across her chest.

"Now I'm just assuming you're the Massiah," said OC, giving Sam a more thorough once-over. "Whatev, speak your peace then get this dude out of my crib. Original Cindy ain't in ta male bonding."

Sam understood her fine and shrugged, turning into the apartment to get this over with, but Mal had to take a minute, finally just giving up. Sandeman was standing at the window, looking out at the street below, like he was waiting for dramatic music to start playing so he could open up with his monologue. Sam cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest impatiently. Sandeman turned, raising his eyebrows in greeting.

"You must be Sam Winchester."

He nodded and glanced at Mal. "This is Mal, River, Inara. You're Sandeman?"

Sandeman nodded and dropped into a chair near the couch. "Please, sit."

OC made to lean against the counter, eyeing everyone suspiciously. Inara sat gingerly, the others stayed standing. Sam had his arms crossed over his chest, staring at Sandeman expectantly, waiting for the first move. Sandeman settled back in his chair without another word and stared up at Sam, something flashing across his eyes.

"First I would like to apologies," started Sandeman. "I'm sure your brother isn't too happy, learning about his clones."

Sam snorted out of surprise, started laughing at the absurdity. "What? Clones?" when Sandeman continued to stare at him, his expression unwavering, the smile slid of Sam's face. "Clones! Dean has _clones_? Wha-why? Why, _why_ would you clone him?"

"Because he is important, to the survival of the human race," said Sandeman slowly. Sam snorted again.

"Dean? My brother Dean?"

"I know it sounds ridiculous to you-"

"It's the funniest thing I've heard all day. You should hear about my day."

"I'll take your word for it," said Sandeman, waving it off. "You and Dean-"

"Oh, now _me_ and Dean?" interrupted Sam, shaking his head and turning back towards the door. "This is stupid, we shouldn't have come all this way-"

"You're a vessel," shouted Sandeman, catching Sam's attention before he was out the door. He didn't turn back to Sandeman, but he tensed, facing the door with an expression on his face that mirrored the older man's in the chair.

"I'm a what?"

"A vessel, for an archangel."

"Angels don't exist-"

"You _don't_ believe that," interrupted Sandeman with a hard shake of his head. "You and Dean are both vessel's. Dean is supposed to be the host of Michael, but…In my future we couldn't take that chance. A prophet called Chuck came to me, said I was meant to do God's work by doing His work. I had already created my first, a transhuman I called Joshua. Chuck convinced me to continue. He provided DNA and when I was ready, after _my_ mission was complete I created 493 and 494. Neither are admittedly Dean Winchester, but they were perfect."

"And me?" asked Sam his breathing becoming shallow. "Who's vessel am I supposed to be?" Sandeman looked away uncomfortably. "_Who?_"

"Lucifer." it was a punch in the face, Sam couldn't move. Mal blinked.

"Who?"

"Lucifer, fool," said OC loudly, looking at Mal like he'd grown a second head. "Satan, the devil, the man-goat thing."

Mal nodded in an uneasy understanding, giving Sam and look a taking a step back. Sam didn't notice. He couldn't see…

"There's nothing I can say, Sam," said Sandeman softly. "The reason Alec exists is because-"

"I said yes," finished Sam. "Dean died, and I said yes. Does Alec say yes?"

"Doesn't have to," whispered River. "No soul. Just an empty shell, waiting to be filled." she frowned at Sam's back, still turned towards the hallways and reached for his hand, glancing over his skin with her fingertips.

"I have to get out of here," mumbled Sam, running his hand through his hair, his other groping blindly for River's, using the shock to snap himself out of his haze.

"We'll go to the ship," said River softly, moving closer to Sam, staring up at his profile. She placed her other hand on his chest lightly, her fingers tapping a pattern into his shirt. "Just you and me. We'll go to the ship."

Sam swallowed, looking down at her, tears he hadn't noticed until that moment making her face blurred. He nodded.

"Are you kidding?" shouted Sandeman, rising to his feet angrily as Sam and River turned back towards the door. "You just leaving?"

"The ship has to be fixed," said River, glancing back at Sandeman. "Can't go home unless it's fixed."

"If you don't find Max and Alec, you can't go home at all," said Sandeman seriously, staring down at the girl as she pulled away from Sam and walked over to him. The corner of her mouth lifted and she reached up to tap his cheek with the tips of her fingers.

"Everything will be alright, Papa. It'll work out shiny."

"So we're staying here?" asked Mal. "Inara and me?"

"We'll come back for you, Captain," said River convincingly, nodding to him and backing herself up until she was standing next to Sam again. "Don't fret."

Jo was standing outside in the hallway when Sam and River came out. Sam stopped in surprise, staring at her.

"My liege," said Jo, her mouth twisting into a smirk.

"I'm not-"

"You will," interrupted Jo, pushing herself away from the way she was leaning against and propping her hands on her hips. "And I can't wait."

Sam glared, turning on his heel and starting down the hallway. River stayed behind, her eyebrows raised at Ruby, something she learned from Sam.

"You wont fail," said River, glancing away for a moment, her eyes turning hard, her jaw clenching. "But he wont love you. Not at the beginning, not at the end. He wont be the one to kill you, but he wont shed any tears."

"What are you?" asked Jo with a frown, stepping closer to River, raking her eyes down the darker girls face.

"They weren't sure," muttered River, pursing her lips for a moment in thought before turning and following Sam out of the building.

_

* * *

_

Inara had her hands braced against the bathroom sink, her eyes squeezed shut. Jaw clenched and teeth bared, she tried breathing through her nose, reciting her prayers in her head, finding her center, anything to stop the pain. Simon had done something to her when he was fixing her wounds. Or, the demon _inside_ Simon had done something. The transgenic blood had worked at first, it got rid of the pain, but there must have been something that even a transgenic couldn't alleviant from her system. The pain came in waves, darkened the edges of her vision, raising bile in her throat.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door and Inara's eyes snapped open catching movement through the space between the door and the floor and she froze, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Girl, you okay in there?" came Original Cindy's voice from the other side of the door. Inara dropped her head between her arms with a sigh.

"Fine," said Inara, loud enough for OC to hear it but still trying to sound better than she felt.

"Original Cindy knows a straight up lie when she hears one," said OC, and then something else that Inara couldn't quiet make out. Inara straightened up and reached for the door, clearing her face as best she could.

"Damn. Pretty face like your's shouldn't be so bruised," said OC sympathetically. "I got something that'll kick the pain."

"You don't have to," said Inara softly. "I'm alright."

"You sure?" Inara closed her eyes and nodded.

"I should probably just lie down." OC nodded and offered her hand which Inara gratefully took, letting herself be lead into a room that looked pretty much abandoned.

"Max lives in Terminal City now, no use jumping back and forth 'tween her lives now," said OC, explaining the emptiness. "Not like she used her bed anyways. Girl's wired up on shark DNA."

OC let Inara walk herself to the bed, but hovered a few feet away just in case. Inara appreciated it, both the space and the closeness.

"Do you mind staying?" asked Inara, sitting down on the edge of the bed without seeming too exhausted.

"I don't mind."

_Or How To Die For the Cause_

Sam and River drove in silence. Sam stole a car a couple blocks away from the apartment complex they had left, leaving Mal and Inara a car just incase they needed it. The radio was broken and the air conditioner didn't work. Sam had rolled down the windows to give them a little circulation, and after a few miles River had given up trying to keep her hair in order and was letting it fly freely around her face, one of her legs hanging out of the window. It wasn't uncomfortable, sitting in silence, watching her watch the scenery go past. Her toes curled against the side view mirror every time he looked over at her.

"Do you think Missy and the others are pissed that we took off?" asked Sam, looking away from River and back at the road. She didn't say anything, she really didn't have too, not when he was talking just to fill the silence. Sam sighed and moved one hand off the wheel, groping for River's shoulder and pulling her out of her seat and into his. She pillowed her head against his chest and stared at the sky over the steering wheel.

"Turn here."

"Serenity's this way." River shook her head and pointed at the road she wanted Sam to take.

"We're going that way."

"_Not_ to Serenity?" asked Sam, slowing the car down the closer they got to the turn. She shook her head.

"She'll be ready to fly when it's time to go." Sam stiffened under her, the car coming to a slow stop. He shifted under her, twisting to look down.

"What exactly are we doing then?"

"Just take the road," whispered River, closing her eyes as the breeze filtered through the open windows. He didn't move, just sat there watching her against him for what felt like a lifetime. He swallowed back his questions and pressed his foot against the gas pedal, making a wide turn and doing what River told him to.

After that the silence was less than comfortable, Sam sitting tense and River staring at the sky, giving him directions when direction was needed. He was pretty sure the clock on the dashboard was slow or fast or something else that didn't give him the correct time. The sun was just starting to set and there was less than a quarter of gas left in the tank when River sat up suddenly, startling Sam and causing him to swerve the car slightly.

"What the hell-?"

"Here," breathed River, her elbow digging into his side. Sam stopped the car with a jerk and then River was climbing over his lab, pushing open the car door and getting out. Sam stared after her, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth hanging open a little.

"River!" She was walking in the middle of the road, or more like stumbling, her bare feet catching against the asphalt. She spun in a circled, her hair flying up against her face as she stopped abruptly, staring straight up at the sky. Sam climbed out of the car, leaning against the doorframe to stare at her better. He said her name again, softer this time, and she held up a hand for silence.

"It's here," she said, her voice cracking.

Sam walked around the car door, leaving it open as he made his way up the road to River. He followed her gaze as he walked, slowing to a stop just in front of her. The air above them shifted. There was nothing here. It was an empty piece of road, trees swallowed around them by an unknown force and now he knew why. This was the rift in the world, this is what separated their dimensions and realities. This was the cause of the transgenics and the Reavers (though he hadn't seen them in flesh yet, just in his dreams) in his world. This was the reason River was here. And with a gut wrenching realization, he knew why there were here.

"We're closing the rift," he murmured, swallowing back his pain and looking down at River. Her eyes were shining, squinted against something he couldn't see. He hadn't questioned her this far, hadn't questioned her when she started showing up in his dreams, killing him as Jo so sweetly put it. His hand glanced over her wrist, agony coursing up his arm and down his spine, blackening his skin and he never thought he'd miss it. River flinched at the contact and jerked her wrist away, breathing hard and looking at him.

"It's not supposed to happen," she whispered. "I'm not supposed to be here, we're not supposed to have known each other. It causes you pain and it kills me inside-" Sam shook his head, cupping her face in his hands and pressing his forehead against hers.

"You can't leave, not now that I know you," grounding out the words through gritted teeth. "I'm not admitting that I listen to Kelly Clarkson or anything, but my life would suck without you."

"It's not fare," said River, blinking the tears out of her eyes, catching the front of Sam's shirt in her hands. "She can't stay, but she can't go."

"No, you can't," he agreed, tilting his head down and kissing her. And god did that hurt. It throbbed in his head and pulled him in closer. He could feel himself tearing at the seams but it was worth it just to feel her lips against his, to taste her. She was gasping at the contact and for air, fingers digging into his shirt, pulling him closer. He was kissing her so hard he could taste blood, or maybe it was from kissing her.

Sam moved his hands from her face to her thighs, sliding his hands under her dress and pushing it up her thighs. He pulled a leg around his hips, fingers digging into flesh. She pressed her tongue into his mouth and the pain exploding through his skull must have fried his nerves or something because the pain felt _good_.

There was a flurry of hands on skin, pulling at zippers and clothes, and gripping in hair. Sam's lips were trailing a path drown River's neck, sliding over her collar bone, over her bare chest. He fell to his knees, bringing her with him. She slid her hands over his face, pushing back his bangs; the tip of her nose brushing against his.

"It can't be helped."

He didn't know what she meant. His mind flashed to a number of things; how badly his knees would need antiseptic when he was finished making her scream; that she _knew_ he was going to make her scream; that he knew she was a virgin, and it was going to hurt a bit; that this was part of the ritual to close the rift; that she loved him too…

One hand slid up her back, fingertips pressing against the dips in her spine. She gasped into his mouth when he entered her, taking her virginity, giving her what she wanted. There was sweat and blood and saliva, hair sticking to flushed faces, nails biting into flesh. It _wasn't_ quick and it _wasn't_ fair and he _made_ her beg for him. She left a pain in his chest that twisted his insides and left him raw. He loved her too much to tell her to stay.

And it sucked.

_How To_

Max and Alec were following Bobby into Seattle, which was confusing, because that _so_ wasn't the original plan. But the Ordinary said he'd gotten a call from some guy named 'Dean', told 'em that they would want to meet him. And he was chuckling when he said it, which was weird.

Turns out, Sandeman's house was the place to be. Max looked over at Alec when they realized the rout they were taking was one of familiarity and watched him roll his eyes. So Bobby knew Logan then, that explained his knowledge of the Conclave. Whatev.

"What the hell, Singer?" shouted Alec over the roar of his and Max's motorcycles, still running whereas Booby had parked, killed the engine and was currently helping Zoë out of the passengers side of the car. Bobby glared at them around his truck.

"Get your asses inside the house."

Again, Alec rolled his eyes, but turned off his bike and climbed off, followed closely by Max and together they made their way up the path to Logan's diggs. Max knocked and the door opened almost immediately.

Max stared, mouth falling open because, holy _crap_.

"Is this a joke?" asked Alec with a laugh. He glance at Max who was still staring stupidly, then over his shoulder at Bobby. "Well?"

"Not a joke, kid," said the man in the doorway, rolling his eyes in a more annoyed way than Alec was used to. "I'm Dean Winchester."

"Another clone?"

"I'm not a _fucking_ clone!" growled Dean, slamming his fist against the doorframe. Neither transgenic flinched. Alec's head swiveled back around, giving Dean a more thorough once over.

"You're old."

"Don't mess with me kid," snapped Dean. "I will kick your ass."

"Doubt it," said Max with a scoff, pushing past him and walking through the house and into the living room, giving Logan a look with her bitch pose when she stopped to stare at him behind his desk. Alec smirked at Dean and followed her, sliding his arm around her shoulder when he was close enough. She didn't shrug it off.

"Logan, what the hell is going on?"

"All hail the concurring heroes return," said Mole from the same chair he'd been in all day. Alec cocked his head, an amused frown crossing his face.

"Who's running TC?"

"No idea," interrupted Logan from his computer. Dean snorted behind the transgenic and they turned their heads slightly to look at him.

"Dudes been at that computer all day. Sam's not even that dedicated to research."

"So are you like my father or my brother?" asked Alec with a smirk. Dean flipped him off and closed the front door behind Zoë and Bobby. Jayne (leaning against the wall facing Mole) straightened up.

"_Tyen-ah._ Zoë?"

"Jayne?"

"How the hell are you still alive, woman?"

"Could ask you the same thing," said Zoe breathlessly. "The Captain? River, Simon, Inara, _nín cóng rèn hé yī gè tīng jiàn liǎo?_"

Jayne shook his head. "Nothing except Mal got River out safe. That's all."

"Gorram."

"So why are we here?" asked Alec, his fingers curling absently around the edges of Max's hair. Logan noticed and stared pointedly until Max caught his gaze and shrugged off Alec's arm. Logan cleared his throat and turned back to his computer.

"Ah…we have an idea on how to stop the rift-"

"You're still trying to find Sam, right? Because he's pretty key in this plan."

"Who's Sam?" asked Max, pulling away from Alec and leaning over Logan's shoulder, staring at the computer screen.

"Dean's brother."

"I have an uncle?"

"Shut up, Alec."

"You know, I thought sleeping with you would make you nicer," snapped Alec causing Logan and Max's heads to snap in his direction. Mole chuckled around his cigar from his E-Z Boy. "But you're still a bitch."

"Charming," said Bela, walking out of the kitchen, arms folding across her chest. "I'm starting to appreciate you, Dean."

"Where do we go from here?" asked Max, still concentrating on Logan's computer screen. He shook his head.

"I'm still trying to figure out the-"

"It's magic, you douche bag," interrupted Dean, sharing a look with Bela. "Look, I _witnessed_ the rift opening, I saw Kali-"

"You saw the Hindu goddess of time and change?" asked Max, staring at him dumbly. "I've seen some pretty weird things the last few days, but _Kali_?"

"I've seen shit that would scar you," snapped Dean, pausing for a moment before adding. "You know, more than you already are, living with that thing." Dean nodded to Mole who flicked cigar ashes in his direction. Dean shook his head. "Vampires, demons, ghosts, evil clown apocalypse, I've seen it all, probably 'll see more before the things I hunt kill me. Trust me when I tell you this is bad on a level you can't even begin to comprehend-"

"Hold on a sec," interrupted Max, straightening up and reaching for the beeping thing coming from her coat pocket, pulling out a pager. Dean stared.

"I thought you were from the future. Why the hell do you have a pager?"

"To warn me if the world's gonna end," quipped Max, tilting her head to the side as she deciphered the number. "It's Cindy, can I use a phone?"

"Here," grumbled Dean, fishing his cell out of his pocket and tossing it across the room for her. She caught it, examined it and looked back at him.

"I'm a genius, I know things. I have never seen a phone like this."

"It's a _Blackberry_."

"You can eat it?" asked Jayne from the wall, getting no response except a withering look from Bela. Max shrugged and dialed in a number.

"_Max, thank god. Where the hell have you been?"_

"Road trip."

"_With Alec?"_

Max frowned. "Who told you that?"

"_Three guesses, girl. Know a dude named Sandeman?"_

"_Sandeman?_"

"_Shit's goin' down, Max. Our crib been crashed by demons, there's a dead body on the balcony, this dude named Sam supposed to be a messiah or summtan-"_

"Slow down, OC. Give it to me one at a time."

"_Where do ya want me ta start?"_ Max chewed on her bottom lip for a moment.

"Start with this Sam guy. Happens his last name is Winchester?" Dean looked up at his brothers name and pushed past Alec, standing in front of Max, staring at her expectantly.

"_Mmm hmm. He bailed with his girl a coupla hours ago. Boy was pretty freaked, learning 'bout how he was supposed to be Satan's facelift. The other two are here though."_

"Is Sam there?" asked Dean, his eyes searching her face. Max shook her head.

"Sounds like he bailed."

"That's just typical," muttered Dean, rolling his eyes and backing away from her. "Typical Sam, running off when things don't go his way or there's a girl, or his puppy eyes don't work-"

"You and Sam have an unusually charged relationship," interjected Bela. "Have you thought of therapy?"

Dean grimaced in her direction, Max concentrated on OC. "Wait, other two- What other two?"

"_Yeah, Mal and Inara. Why? You know them too?"_

"Let's see," muttered Max, looking up at Bobby and Zoë. "Mal and Inara ring a bell?"

"Captain's alive?" asked Jayne. "We still got a way out of this crap hole planet?"

The occupants in the room who _didn't_ live on a spaceship stared at him, Logan and Dean glared.

"_Ah, Max? Sandeman wants a word."_

Max swallowed at her friends words, feeling a pressure against her chest that usually accompanied impending doom or going into work. She nodded, remembered that OC couldn't see her and cleared her throat. "Yeah, okay."

There was a shuffle, someone scoffed and with an exaggerated sigh she was suddenly talking to Sandeman. Father. The creator of her race.

"_Hello, Max."_

"Hey. Can I call you dad?"

"_Max-"_

"You know, I got a beef with you. You left home, no note, no number, you missed all my birthdays, left my race to suffer. I know a lot of people who would love to see you dead. Myself not excluded."

"_Drop the snark, my girl, we don't have the time."_

"End of the world, yada yada. I know the drill. I go in, kick ass, the world keeps spinning." She heard Sandeman suck in a breath and knew that what was coming wasn't going to be good.

"_Not this time. The world isn't meant to overlap like this. People who are alive in both times can't exist together, one of them will die. If the rift doesn't close, then everyone dies. If not from the effects of the rift, then from the virus the Conclave is spreading over the Earth, or the Reavers, or they just vanish into the rift."_

"So…how do I-?"

"_You don't, Max,"_ said Sandeman softly. _"You die."_

"That…that's not fair," whispered Max, her eyes filling with tears, turning away from the room looking in on her. "I can fix this chiz."

"_Listen carefully, Max,"_ said Sandeman, ignoring her words. _"You have no junk DNA, that's what makes you special, that's what going to destroy the Conclave, but Alec is Dean, in every way, but with an exception."_

"Let me guess, Alec's bouncin' around with no junk DNA either."

"_No, he is."_

"Then what's the exception?"

"_He's expendable."_ Max slammed the phone down onto Logan's desk, scrubbing tears off her face with the sleeve of her jacket.

"Max-?"

"Don't, Logan," snapped Max, shrugging away from her not-like-that-not-totally-ex-boyfriend. She shook her head angrily and stomped away, in the direction of the door, grabbing Alec's coat as she went, pulling him along with her.

"Ow, Max!"

"Shut up, Alec," snapped Max. Dean sidestepped in front of her, eyebrows raised, face stony and old and not like Alec's. She wondered why she didn't notice it immediately. Their eyes had different sparks in them, they were charged differently. She stopped a few inches from running into him and glared. "I will bounce you on your bitch ass if you don't get outta my way."

"I'd like to see you try, sweetheart."

"No, you really wouldn't," growled Max and with a glare, shoved him in the chest with one hand. He hit the floor hard and slid across it. She didn't stop to watch.

"Max. Max what the hell did Sandeman say?" asked Alec, letting himself be lead outside. She forced him onto her bike and climbed in front of him, starting the engine. He leaned against her back, his mouth against her ear. "Max, stop."

Her arm fell to her side, slumping back against him. "I can't."

"What did he say?" murmured Alec, his arms sliding around her waist.

"That…we have to die." Alec tensed against her.

"Let's get the hell outta here."

"Glad you caught up."

"Well, thanks for the info."

After that the silence was overwhelming. The wind roaring in their ears, blowing through their clothes. Every shift their bodies made sent waves through their bodies until the dark and the cold and a light in the distance that they could almost see with their enhanced vision made them stop.

Their was a piece of sky missing and a bit of a person was lying next to the wrong half of a tree. So their instinct's lead them straight to the rift, bully for them. Alec climbed off the bike, one of his hands lingering on her back as he moved around her, staring at the light ahead of them. It fell away as he continued on, stopping a good two yards away.

"So this is it," breathed Alec. "Final destination."

"What are you talking about?" asked Max with a frown and bit of a pout. Alec turned around, smirking sadly. He pulled a combat knife from the back of his pants and tossed it to her. She caught it in both hands and for a moment she was dumbfounded.

Then she was Max again, she snapped up to look at him, eyes narrowed and angry. "This is the stupidest thing you've ever done, _ever_."

His smirk came through a bit more true at her words. "Are you sure?"

"You want me to _kill you!_ Yeah, Alec, that's pretty fucking dumb," shouted Max, almost flying off her bike, shoving it to the ground when it got in her way to get to him.

"I'm gonna die anyway, I figure…why not make it my terms?"

"You're too young to die, Alec." he snorted softly, looking down at himself.

"Actually, I've lived a lot longer than I thought I would. It's enough."

"How do you know?" asked Max, stepping closer to Alec, gripping the lapels of his jacket and jerking him roughly. She shook off the tears in the corners of her eyes and glared angrily at him. "How do you know it's enough?"

"Because I was with you," murmured Alec, leaning his forehead against her, pressing his mouth against hers in an attempt to shut her up, to show her how much he cared. She pulled away from him with a sob, shaking her head.

"I can't! I can't kill you again."

"I'm not Ben, Max," said Alec thickly, sliding his hands across her face, turning her eyes back to his. "I'm Alec. You know that better than anyone," he smiled, broken and pleading. "You made me."

"I love you, Max. Always will." Max dropped her head, her shoulders hunched around her ears. Alec pulled her into his chest.

"God you're so annoying," said Max, her voice muffled against his chest. Alec smirked, his throat tightening as tears burned against his eyes. "I swear, one more word about how much you love me and I'll kick your ass."

"So unfeminine." Max pulled away, jaw trembling. Alec's head tilted slightly, sliding one hand over hers, the one holding the knife, and held on tightly.

"Make it quick, Maxie." Max glared at him through tears, her jaw trembling. His face swam in front of her, smirking and breathing and…and Alec.

"Don't call me Maxie," she growled, the heat surprisingly absent from her voice. Blood splattered against her face, warm and familiar. Someone was crying, it sounded painful, like their heart was just metaphorically ripped out. Max dropped to her knees and held Alec in her arms, realized the someone crying was her.

_How To_

OC hung up the phone after talking to Dean about getting out of the apartment and somewhere safer. She was all for it, especially since…

Mal was sitting at the table against the wall, fiddling with the magnet alphabet sitting there, making words. OC avoided his eyes when he looked at her, she avoided Sandeman as he fumed on the couch, talking to himself with more malice and snark than she'd heard from Max on her bad days. Instead she excused herself to Max's room and shut the door against the light.

"How you feelin'?"

Inara was lying on Max's bed, pale as a sheet, looking for the world like she was about to drop dead. She managed to crack open her eyes at OC's words and a smile touched the corners of her lips.

"I think you know." OC nodded, pushing some of her hair off of her face and moving to the chair she'd pulled up next to the bed. Inara stared at her thoughtfully and reached out, touching the black woman's face. "I'm sorry if you feel like you have to watch me die."

"You shouldn't be alone," said OC, closing her eyes against Inara's hand. "I have friends who could help. There's a doctor in the other room-"

"I'm leaving this space one why or another," said Inara. "It's past pain now. I'm ready for this," she nodded, looking away from OC and up at the ceiling. "I just don't want to leave."

"If you want to be alone, I understand-"

"No," said Inara quickly, reaching out to take OC's hand. She swallowed, her eyes brimming with fear. "Please just stay." The other woman bowed her head and nodded, moving her other hand onto Inara's, pressing her forehead against hers.

"I ain't goin' anywhere."

After that it was down hill, her breathing slowed, her body tensed and something holding on inside Inara snapped and she shuddered into the bed.

"Is she gone?" OC started at the voice, her head whipping around to see Mal leaning in the doorway, staring at Inara with a stony expression on his face. She looked back at Inara's body and nodded.

"Just like that."

_How To_

Logan watched Alec and Max drive away on her Ninja, ignored the impending jealousy and long night of drinking in his future for the end of the world. Dean was talking on his phone with Original Cindy, discussing arrangements to get them over to Sandeman's as quickly as possible.

"I'll go get 'em," said Bobby. Zoë was sitting at the kitchen table with Joshua and Jayne, and who knew what they could talk about together. Bela was sitting at his desk, fiddling idly with a pen. She shook her head with a sigh at Bobby's words.

"You can't go alone."

"She's right," agreed Logan. "I'll go with you."

"Aw hell, I don't want to be left," said Jayne, lifting his gun to his shoulder. "Ain't nothin' interesting gonna happen here anyways."

"My truck ain't gonna fit you both," grumbled Bobby. "Let alone the rest of the people in that apartment _and_ the dead bodies."

"We'll take my Prius," said Logan, earning a snort from Dean.

"You have a _Prius_?"

Logan chose to ignore him and grabbed his coat, heading for the door with Jayne following close behind. Bobby shook his head, clapping Dean on the shoulder as he went.

"Don't do anything stupid, while I'm gone."

Bobby took the direction's Logan gave him to the apartment, embraced the feeling to not wait for Jayne and Logan and took the stairs two at a time, reaching the right door and finding it hanging open. He closed his eyes briefly, thinking all the worst things about what might have happened to the people he didn't know and walked in.

Jo, sweet little Jo, was straddling Sandeman's chest, her hand at his throat, tears spilling over her eyes. Bobby didn't react quickly, he made slow, calculated moves. The Colt was sitting on the coffee table, and of course Bela would sell it to a crazy man making people in a lab. Jo was too occupied with killing said crazy man with her bare hands to notice Bobby moving behind her, picking up the gun, pointing it at her head.

Her nose was bleeding from concentration and rage when Sandeman's head lolled to the side. The sound of the gun arming echoed around the room, and like slow motion Jo spun around, her hair flying around her face.

"Why?" asked Bobby calmly. "He's just one man."

"He killed the only person that mattered to me!" screamed Jo, her voice shrill and pained, her hair clinging to her face, blood dripping from her nose. Bobby stared down at her sympathetically, biting back the tears in his eyes. "Do you have any idea what that feels like?"

He pulled the trigger before it registered and watched as electricity snapped through Jo's body. She dropped forward, landing half on Sandeman. Bobby shook his head, squeezing shut his eyes to get rid of the sight and the tears.

"You have no idea."

Bobby looked up as someone walked out of the room to his right. Original Cindy gave him a look then glanced at the floor.

"Bitches really gotta stop dying in my place," she said softly. They both looked around at the front door as it opened. Jayne and Logan walked through. Logan looked relieved to see OC.

"Hey, Logan," said OC softly.

"Gorram it, what happened here?" muttered Jayne, frowning at the two dead bodies on the floor.

"Meet Claudio Sandeman," said Bobby, nodding to the dead man on the floor. "And the demon who killed him."

"I thought you couldn't kill demons?" asked Logan. Bobby waved the Colt in his hand at them a bit, quirking his eyebrows at the irony.

"With this you can."

Mal walked out of Max's room, carrying a dead woman in his arms.

"Capt'n?"

"Simon's body is on the balcony," said Mal dully. "River will want to burry him."

"Zoë's still alive, Mal."

"Well that's some comfort." Jayne started for the balcony, meeting Original Cindy half way, who helped him open the window so he could fit out. Mal's voiced stopped him, caused him to freeze in his tracks.

"So the end of the world," started Mal seriously, staring down at Inara. "I think that I might be okay with that. Can't be so bad. Not worse than this."

_How To_

"This is ridiculous," snapped Bela, pacing the room like a caged animal. "This _waiting_. It's not like it matters for some of us. We're just meant to die a brutal, unforgiving death. And yet, they make us wait."

"What are you going to do about it, darling?" asked Mole offhandedly, staring at a skin mag he found in the cushions of his chair. Bela smirked at him, her heels clicking against the floor as she stalked over to him, her hands bracing against his chair.

"I'll do something for humanity before I die, shall I?" suggested Bela, leaning over Mole's shoulder. He looked sideways at her, chewing his cigar thoughtfully.

"What'd you have in mind?"

"Something simple, elegant. Something that will get us out with a bang," said Bela, her voice low, close to his ear (or where she assumed it was). "The Conclave is located just outside the city. I can get us there."

"And then what?" asked Mole, his tone brimming with false excitement. "We sit down and chat?"

"We blow the bloody place to hell. Where it belongs."

They stole Dean's car, because it was so convenient. Bela drove and got them through the city and out of it in less than half an hour. After that it was Bela's word getting them there. She wasn't an idiot, she planned on dying there, it would be worth it, to see the looks on their faces. The Committee was something she'd been mulling over in her brain for years, and now that she finally had an excuse to meet them she wasn't going to pass it up.

Brookridge Academy, was just how she remembered it. Her father's favorite place to holiday when he took her to the states. She learned more about demons in those halls than those few seconds with the crossroads demon who took her soul.

"I don't want to assume anything," started Bela, stopping the car at the front entrance and turning to face Mole with a semi-serious, mostly condescending expression. "But you do know how to make a bomb with gasoline and week old fast food, don't you?" Mole gave her a look that had Bela's eyes brightening. "Brilliant."

She didn't have to get her hands dirty, but the best part was that the Priestess remembered her face and Bella got to watch it melt off.

_How To_

"Where the hell did Bela go?" asked Dean, stopping suddenly. Zoë looked around at him, raising an eyebrow.

"When I asked she told me to sod off," said Zoë. "Whatever that means. The lizard thing's gone too."

"God dammit," spat Dean, nostrils flaring. He spun around to look at Zoë. "My clone took off, Bobby took off, Jayne's gone, my brother's missing and you're the only person I have for company. You…and Joshua. Hold me?"

Zoë snorted. "'Scuse me?"

Dean roared, doubling over in pain, one hand waving around wildly to find purchase on something, to keep himself from falling over. He didn't find anything in time, his knees crashing to the ground. Zoë shouted his name, sliding out of her chair and catching Dean's shoulders before he completely collapsed.

The screaming stopped and he hung limply in her arms for a minute. Then he gasped and looked up, straight into her, his eyes white.

"What is happening," whispered Zoë. Dean mouth opened, his jaw trembling.

"This isn't me."

After that, the words came, blurring around his tongue, filling the room with a language or languages Zoë didn't understands or think were real. She couldn't let go of him.

She _couldn't_ let go.

_How To_

The headlights from the car mixed against the moonlight, shinning off the trees in the distance eerily, casting shadows across the asphalt. Sam was staring up at the sky, wondering why his knees stung and why he was outside. Good memories and painful conversations trickled into his brain and he closed his eyes with a groan, rolling over on his side. River wasn't lying next to him like he had been when he'd fallen asleep, and he blinked against the headlights of the car (wondering if he'd stumbled upon the greatest car battery in the world or if all cars had that kind of stamina), finding River's back silhouetted against the darkness.

"River?"

She was kneeling on the floor, drawing something on the asphalt. The light glanced off her hand and it glistened with red. Sam heard shuffling and looked up to see a pretty girl with dark hair and red rimmed eyes walking up to them. She was wearing black, but there was a shine against the material, against her face that reminded Sam of blood. She shrugged at him and stopped a few feet away from River.

"So I'm here," said Max, crossing blood covered arms over her chest. She frowned at them and looked away. "Why are you both naked? Wait. Don't answer that."

"Who are you?" asked Sam, looking around uncomfortably for his pants. River didn't bother with clothes.

"Her names X5-452. But you can call her Max."

"I'm supposed to save the world, or something?"

"Join the club," said Sam with a cheeky grin in her direction, zipping up his jeans. Max shrugged.

"Think I will. Do we get t-shirts?"

"We get scars."

"Coolie. Could use more of those."

River sat back on her heels, pushing her hair out of her face with her bloodied hand and sighed. She looked up at Sam almost peacefully.

"All done."

"So what now?" asked Max, glancing back at the way she'd come. River stood up and raised an eyebrow at her.

"What do you think?" Max squeezed her eyes shut, and Sam watched her body tense and snap, like fluid she was walking closer to them, her face set and a cocky glint to her eyes.

"Let's do this quick."

River nodded and turned to face Sam. "You know the ending."

He frowned at her. "The what?"

"Gotta listen," said River, tapping the side of her face with her fingertips. "You know the words, let them come."

Sam reached for her, sliding his hand against her cheek, around her back of her neck. She closed her eyes at his touching her, the fluttering of pain against his fried nerves kicking his brain on. The words rushed into him, but they couldn't be words. Something familiar filled his brain, mixing with the words and pain. He couldn't place it, but it felt like home.

The white was warm, and it washed over them. It felt like home and it ripped them apart and away. It swallowed them and spit them out, soft and chewy. Kind of felt like home.

_Or How To Fade Back into the World_

"There are still a couple transhumans, Artic Division, down in on Maple St. looking for space with in the Coolers. Missy is still having trouble running the X6's through drills by herself, those kids don't listen to anyone," said Luke with a chuckle, looking up at Mole from his clipboard. The halfhearted grin slid off his face at the stoic expression he was given and he sighed. "Until Max and Alec get back we don't have any familiar faces to show the public that we're minding our own business-"

"They're not coming back," snapped Mole, glaring at Luke. "It's been…they aren't coming back any time soon. They have a job to do, and they're doing it."

Luke nodded, looking away from their Commander for a moment. Mole raised an eyebrow. "Anything else?"

"Logan's on hold downstairs." Mole groaned and pushed himself out of his chair, pushing past Luke and out into the corridor.

After he and Bela had destroyed Brookridge Academy, he didn't stick around to collect her body. He knew she wasn't going to come out of that building, he could practically smell it on her, the determination. Dean's car had been a little scuffed up, something he glared at him heatedly for about a minute before the world went white and shiny.

He'd heard nothing of Alec and Max since they'd stormed out of Sandeman's. OC had laid out what she remembered from Sandeman's side of the conversation for him, Logan and Joshua, and they figured that there was no way Alec or Max could be dead. Neither of them were stupid enough to believe Sandeman and his horseshit idea of how to get back to normal.

But it had been a long time since the rift had closed. Too long for a soldier to go without checking in with their base, too long for Max or Alec to go without checking in to bitch about each other and get the word on the transgenic sitch. Mole picked up the landline and dropping into the chair next to the video monitor, raising his eyebrows at Logan in greeting.

"_Mole."_

"Logan, any word?" Logan shook his head.

"_I've been looking, but I can't find anything. Not their bodies, not Max's bike."_

"So there's a chance they could be alive?"

"_I'm hoping."_

"Hope is for losers," growled Mole. "Do us a favor and just get us our fearless leaders returned. So I can kick their asses for leaving me in charge."

"_I'll find them,"_ said Logan determinedly. _"I will. I promise."_

Mole nodded and cut the feed, closing his eyes with a small shake of his head. That man wasn't going to find a damn thing, not even if he knew the exact route Max and Alec had gone and personally walked the path looking for them. There was no way they were alive. No way they were ever coming back.

Then again, destiny was always screwing them over.

* * *

"That stupid lizard wrecked my car," grumbled Dean around the rim of his beer. He and Sam were leaning against the hood of the impala on the side of the road. Watching the view in front of them, but not really looking at it. Sam snorted into his beer, no amusement behind it, just something for him to do. Dean looked over at him with a frown and nudged him with his elbow. "C'mon, Sam, get over her."

"I can't," muttered Sam. "You didn't know her, Dean. I spent months dreaming about her. I know her better than I…"

"Okay," agreed Dean. "Don't get over her, but could you please stop brooding? It's brining down the happy vibes."

Sam snorted, rolling his beer between his hands, thinking of River, is she was alrig-

"Dude, I told you to _stop_ brooding."

After the ritual, after the white, he and Dean had just been together. He was sitting in the Impala and Dean was glaring at nothing. It took him a moment to realize it had worked, that whatever they had done had worked. He hadn't told Dean about what Sandeman had told him, about being a vessel. He hadn't told Dean much of anything.

"So now what?" muttered Dean, staring out into the sunset, feeling kind of nostalgic. A bird flapped its wings behind them, or it sounded like a bird. The crunch of footsteps in gravel caught their attention and they turned, Dean tightening his grip on his beer bottle, like he was going to use it as a weapon. An accountant looking man wearing a tan trench coat waked up to them. Sam snorted.

"And what are you supposed to be."

"I am an angel of the Lord. Castiel."

This time Dean snorted. "No such thing buddy, try again."

"That's a vessel?" asked Sam quietly, earning a look from Dean and an acknowledgement from Castiel.

"That's right. I'm here to explain."

"Explain what? The almost end of the world. Great job on that, by the way," snapped Dean. Castiel tilted his head to the side and looked at Sam.

"You didn't tell him."

"Tell me what?"

"What you're meant to be." Dean straightened up, glancing between Sam and Castiel.

"And what is that?"

"Vessels for archangels."

Dean blinked at him then turned to Sam, raising his eyebrow in a 'c'mon, level with me, this is a joke right?' way. Sam looked away. "Sam?"

"You were temporarily filled with Michael's presence," began Castiel. "Before the rift closed, you might have felt it."

"The head splitting, oh god, oh god we're all going to die, pain? Yeah, might have felt that."

"That was the presence of Michael," continued Castiel. "He allowed you to be present when he recited the words to finish the ritual and close the rift."

"This is bullshit," muttered Dean. "I'm not a vessel, there's no fucking way."

"Sam knows the truth, and he's prepared to accept it-"

"I'm not doing anything," interjected Sam. "Dean's right. There's no fucking way."

"Be that as it may. We have work for you. For you both."

Sam pushed himself off the car and faced Castiel. "What kind of work?"

"God's. You both personally witnessed the rift-" Dean glanced at Sam, wondering if he would have ever motioned anything about that "-You both played your parts to close it. The transgenics have already done their part to keep the world in order, it's the present we have to worry about now."

* * *

Three more gravestone added to their private cemetery, joining the bodies of Wash, Shepherd Book and Mr. Universe.

"Seems like we just keep getting back up," said Mal softly. "When all I want to do is wish it all away."

"It's alright, Captain," said River, her fingers falling over the hologram of Simon's face, distorting the image. "Time is a circle, spiraling onward for eternity. I'll see Sam again, we'll be back."

"Hopefully not any time soon," grumbled Jayne. "Ain't nothing worse than Earth in my opinion. Hell, can't even get a decent glass of whisky there."

"What now, Captain?" asked Zoë, staring at Wash's face as she spoke.

"We keep flying."

* * *

Chinese Translations:

tyen-ah. - oh god  
nín cóng rèn hé yī gè tīng jiàn liǎo - have you heard from any of them


End file.
